The Monster
by ManiacallyLoveable
Summary: His thoughts were still a mystery to her; she guarded herself for the possibility that his sincerity and passion towards her was limited to the flesh and that he could throw her to the wolves in a moment if he thought it to be to his advantage. Even then, he provided her with a cure she so desperately sought; treatment she could get from no other.
1. Chapter 1: The Beginning

Her blonde hair swirled in the breeze as she danced swiftly and gracefully though the moves of her routine. The silver sword she held in her hands sung as she lifted it above her head and swung it to her side, light glistening from the blade, shimmering across her metal bodice, and reflecting on her pale face. Sweat dripped from her chin, but she remained focused on the imaginary enemy in front of her. She was still young, barely into the beginning of her adolescence, but her eyes shone with the determination and experience of a fully mature, noble warrior. She slowly lowered her sword to her side as she finished her practice, a weary sigh escaping her parted lips.

"Very nice," spoke a voice from behind her. "I can see improvement in both your form and grip."

She grinned with pride and raised an eyebrow. "You speak as though you're an expert, but as I recall from our last spar, you have a lot to learn as well, young Prince Thor."

The name was meant in jest. Everyone at the academy could barely contain their whispers of excitement in reaction to Thor's potential as an entrant in the academy next year. He was the current "hot topic" of conversation and it was all favorable. Thor seemed to be growing into his father's footprints quite nicely. He was strong, well-spoken, and intelligent - the perfect combination for a would-be king of Asgard. Although the Allfather and the elders had yet to announce a successor to the throne, Thor was favored to earn the selection. His recent, rapid growth in height, strength, and his father's increase in favor toward him had elicited a change in the manner in which he was addressed. No longer was he simply "Thor" or "Odinson," to the people; he was beginning to grow into his royal title and the respect that came with the role.

"I concede that you have superior skill with the blade, but I would remind you that a sword is not exactly my weapon of choice. I prefer something heavier and more powerful."

"Something like Mjolnir?" she asked sardonically.

He feigned disinterest with a casual shrug, but it quickly gave way to a smile. "My Lady Sif is as swift of mind as she is with a sword."

"Well, you have been pining after that hammer for longer than I've known you. These days, it seems to be monopolizing your attention, even more so than your old comrades."

Thor chuckled and wrapped an arm loosely around her shoulder. "I promise you, Sif - even after I am king, I will not forget my friends - least of all, you."

The last words had been said in a quieter tone, meant to avoid the ears of the others that were caring for their weapons nearby. She cleared her throat and turned her head, hoping he could not see the blood rushing to her cheeks. Thor was much too young to consider a wife, but Sif harbored a wish that her continued success as a warrior would make her an acceptable candidate. She hoped that Thor would consider such a choice when the time was appropriate, after their graduation from the academy and his coronation. "Yes, well... I will hold you to your word."

"I have no doubt," he said with a cocky smile.

Unfortunately, Thor's voice had travelled further than intended. His brother, sitting on a log nearby and seemingly forgotten by the pair as they exchanged their quips, had exceptional hearing. Thor often forgot this, but Loki surmised that he simply didn't care enough to conceal his words from his younger brother.

As he had grown older, Loki had become very good at masking his true emotions from others. On the outside, he appeared disinterested and bored as he occasionally tossed one of his daggers in the air and casually caught it again. Underneath his exterior, however, he quietly seethed in annoyance. Thor had been using the phrase "_when_ I am king..." often, which was a dangerous assumption, even for one as favored as he. There was a limit to the advantage birth order provided in Asgard; Thor had no right to assume the throne was his. Although the Allfather had always favored Thor above his brother due to his likeness and strength, he hadn't yet labeled him his successor. In fact, this would not be done for years to come, until both boys had finished their training and studies and had been adequately assessed. In the meantime, while Thor's muscles grew larger, so did Loki's knowledge of magic, enchantments, and the wonders of Yggdrasil. This was not a competition Loki would easily concede.

Thor's conversation with Sif had struck another nerve with Loki, one he did not care to reveal or dwell on. His brother would excuse his words with Sif as friendly banter, considering how long they had known each other. However, as time went on, it became difficult for Loki to ignore the fact that she preferred Thor's company over his. He was too keenly aware of the way they were beginning to look at each other, the way Thor would avoid eye contact with her unless he felt confident about what he was saying, and the way Sif would unconsciously push a strand of her golden locks behind her ear whenever he would flash his cocky, over-confident, insincere smile in her direction. This display of Thor's nauseated Loki, especially when it was directed towards _her._

"Are you two finished? Or shall I call one of the palace chaperones?" Fandral asked sarcastically as he walked up behind them. "I thought we were here to train."

"You're in an abnormally productive mood today, Fandral," said Sif.

"Yes; some of us haven't gone through growth spurts that have added 20 pounds of muscle overnight. I've got a lot of work to do if I'm to keep up with Thor at the academy."

"True enough!" Thor said proudly as he gave Fandral a loud, friendly smack on the back.

Fandral stumbled forward with the impact, but laughed in return; Loki rolled his eyes. His mood was not ameliorated by the reminder that he had grown taller, but skinnier during the same months when puberty had been particularly kind to his brother. Thor's shoulders were wider, his jaw squarer, and he was much stronger than he had been just a season ago. This genetic gift from Odin apparently didn't transfer to the younger brother. He had changed in appearance as well, but while Thor was developing a body like that of a classic hero in the old stories, Loki's long face, dark hair, and pale complexion made him look more the villain.

"Now then, how shall we proceed?" Sif asked, "standard pairs, multiple adversaries..?"

"I have an idea," a young man in their group started, "What if we played 'The Jotun and the Maiden?' That was always good for exercise with a group."

"What a fun idea, Folkvar," Fandral agreed. "We haven't enjoyed that game in a long time and it _is _excellent day for it. Besides, who knows if our time at the academy will allow us to gather again like this for some time."

Thor nodded. "Agreed. We can spread out around the rocks over the foothills. Loki can be the monster and Sif... "

"Aren't we a little old for this?" Loki suddenly spoke as he rose from his nearby seat.

"Perhaps, but there's no harm in indulging in nostalgia," Folkvar argued.

"No harm, sure..." Loki started with a wry chuckle. "You're not the one who has to be the monster every time. It's a horrible game born from a terrible fairytale."

"The only reason you're always given that role is because you're good at it," Sif argued, referring to the fact that his magic made it easier for the "monster" and the "maiden" to hide from the group of "heroes" to track and fight him. "No one here besides you can conjure fog from nothing or know of the illusions you do."

She put a reassuring hand on Loki's shoulder, and he quickly turned away from her, fearing he would reveal the blush on his cheeks. The truth was, he didn't completely mind the game when she was the maiden. Since it required him to kidnap her, this game afforded him the rare opportunity to talk to her outside of his brother's earshot. It also allowed him room and time to practice and show off his new tricks. However, the end of the game, when the heroes would come to rescue the maiden and vanquish the monster, was humiliating, as he was easily bested by the three or four heroes accompanying Thor. It was never a fair fight.

"Plus," Thor began after a short pause in the conversation, "throwing daggers are not exactly a hero's weapon and they are too dangerous for group training."

Loki seethed, but maintained his stoic expression. "Then give me a sword."

His brother chuckled. "You're serious? You're horrible with swords."

Loki's face turned red; he took a deep breath in preparation of saying something, but was cut off by Sif. "Maybe we can play another game," she suggested. "I'm not so sure I want to continue being the maiden anyway. I can rescue myself."

Thor smiled, flashing his white teeth at her. "Indeed, you can." Sif smiled; Loki's frown deepened. "Well, perhaps Folkvar will be willing to play the Jotun?" The other boy nodded an affirmative. "Loki, you can be the maiden, if the other role bothers you so much."

Loki's fist tightened around the handle of the dagger he held. "Let me the hero. I can handle a sword," he said firmly, his voice remaining calm and his words purposeful and planned.

"It's not just about your lack of skill. I don't want you to hurt yourself or anyone else, Brother." Thor stated firmly. "Do you want to be a part of this, or would you rather go back to the city?" he asked, his tone made it obvious that he was growing tired of his brother's protests.

Loki looked around at the group of young warriors in training, then back at Sif. His mouth opened to argue, but he chose, instead, to lower his head in submission to his brother's wishes. Anger was now coupled with embarrassment; he was not proving his worth as a leader by yielding to his brother's will.

Thor turned his back to him and began giving orders to the others. "We'll start at the base of the hills; be sure to stay close and don't..."

His words were interrupted by the distinct sound of metal scraping metal. Loki had unsheathed a sword and was pointing it directly at the back of his head, though he maintained some distance between the blade and his brother's flesh. Thor furrowed his brow and crossed his arms. "What are you doing?" he asked, turning slowly to meet his brother's stare.

"Proving something," Loki answered simply.

His stance and footing were correct, as was his grip on the sword. However, this is something often taught in one's first class as a swordsmen. Loki's inexperience and lack of strength was obvious by the way the blade shook as he strained to hold it upward. "Loki, put it down, before you get hurt."

"Before _I_ get hurt?" he asked incredulously. "Spar with me, Brother. Let me show you your error in judgment."

The blade he held against his brother shined in the reflection of the mother star's light. It was a real, sharpened sword and Thor was aware that Loki was slowly progressing forward with the tip of the blade directed at his throat. Still, Thor did not unsheathe his own weapon.

He laughed dryly. "Do you know what Father would do to me if you get hurt with this foolishness?"

"You're not my caretaker." With a wild swing, Loki steered the sword down to the right. It landed with a heavy thud on the ground; Thor easily evaded it.

"You are my responsibility as my younger brother," Thor argued, "Now, stop this. I love you, but I will not hesitate to defend myself or the others in this group, even if you get hurt."

With a grunt of effort, Loki lifted the blade from the impression it had made in the grass on its previous impact. He swung it horizontally across Thor's waistline. Again, his movement was slow and sloppy, and he had made the mistake of moving the wrong foot forward. Thor avoided the strike with one, small step back at the right moment.

"Loki, you don't have to prove anything. It's just a game..."

He swung to the left this time, but the inertia of the heavy blade in combination with his bad footing caused him to stumble. He momentarily faced away from Thor, who took the opportunity to step on the inside of his knee, forcing Loki to the ground.

"Are you finished?" Thor asked, his impatience lacing his tone.

The younger groaned an feigned concession and dropped the sword. Thor smiled and sighed, helping his brother to his feet. Suddenly, Loki swung at his face with this fist. In a quick reflexive move, Thor retaliated by grabbing his fist, pulling it above Loki's head, and using the open window of vulnerability to deliver a powerful punch to Loki's gut.

Thor had not yet become accustomed to the strength he had recently gained. In a sickening twist, he felt the distinctive sensation of bone cracking at the moment of impact. He had broken at least one of his brother's ribs, and judging by the wet sensation on his fist, the bone had pierced his skin. Loki fell to the ground, a horrible squeak coming from his throat in what should have been a gasp as he tried to reclaim his breath. Thor's eyes were wide with shock and regret as he watched his brother struggle to breathe through his pain as he held his palm against the ever-growing dark red stain on his green tunic.

"Does anyone have a healing stone?!" Thor vaguely heard Sif scream. The answer must have been 'no' because she was quickly at his side without one in hand. "Thor, I think we'd better get him to the healing rooms."

Thor nodded in agreement. By then, his brother had managed to catch his breath, but he'd grown pale with his pain. Thor helped him to his feet and carefully wrapped the arm from his uninjured side around his neck. Sif followed as they began the long walk back to the city and the palace gates.

The journey back to the palace was grueling. The hills were just beyond the outer borders of the city, and they dared not use a horse and aggravate his injury with its jostling stride. Asgard, during its strongest period, did not have an overabundance of guards. They were within the palace grounds by the time they were seen as they walked up the long narrow path in the gardens. The guards alerted Queen Frigga and she immediately called for the healers, who rushed the barely-conscious prince into the nearby chambers. The queen followed the healers into the room, but Thor and Sif halted at the threshold.

"This is not your fault," Sif said, sensing the guilt that laid heavily on Thor's heart. "He could have killed you, if you hadn't stopped him."

Thor watched from their distance as the healers crushed a number of small stones in a bowl intended to treat Loki's injuries. He granted her a small nod, but he couldn't meet her eyes. He could hear the panic in his mother's tone change to calm as the healers assessed Loki's condition. A few broken ribs could be mended easily. Resetting them would be painful, but the healing stones would bring relief quickly.

The queen left the room and closed the door behind her, allowing the healers to work uninhibited by her presence. Sif kneeled in respect as she approached them; Thor bowed his head, but his eyes remained fixed towards the floor. "Are you ready to tell me what happened?"

Her tone was hard and cold. Thor could bravely face dragons and man-eating fish with nothing more than his bare hands, but the anger of his parents terrified him. He swallowed hard and began his story, explaining everything from Loki's obsessed resistance to their game to his stubborn reaction to Loki's desire to switch roles. The portion of his tale regarding their fight came slowly as he tried his best to calculate his words. He was not gifted with a honey tongue, like his brother, but even Loki would have experienced difficulty making the situation appear better than it was.

"I'm sorry. I did not mean to hit him so hard. I only meant to put him down so he would stop his recklessness," Thor said in conclusion.

Queen Frigga had remained silent, allowing her son to express his side of things. Her eyes stayed locked on his as she attempted to read the truth in his words. When he was finished, she turned towards the young Sif, who stood quietly behind Thor. "To the best of your knowledge, is this accurate?"

Sif opened her mouth in surprise that the queen was so directly confronting her. She cleared her throat and answered, "yes, My Queen."

The queen breathed in through her nose deeply and rubbed her fingers against the side of her dress, apparently taking a moment to consider what Thor had said. "Sif," she began, "would you mind checking on my son? I would like to speak with Thor alone for a moment."

The young warrior bowed and obeyed, closing the door to the healing room and allowing the queen and prince their privacy.

"Mother, I'm sorry," he reiterated desperately.

Frigga's expression softened and she rested her hand gently on his cheek. "I'm sure you are, but I am not the person who needs your apology." Thor nodded in understanding, glancing at the large, ornate doors leading into the healing room. "You are both growing so fast," she said, her voice laced with a hint of sadness.

"Mother..?" he asked in confusion.

"You are already men; I seem to have blinked and missed it. It's difficult for me to accept the fact that you will be in the academy next semester, but I'm happy that we will have a little while longer with your brother," she said, her eyes filled with a nostalgia for her children and their youths. "The selection for the throne will not be far behind."

"Has father said anything about appointing a successor?" Thor asked curiously.

She smiled softly and avoided his question, as he knew the answer would be the same as it had been the last 50 times he had asked. "Thor, there will be obstacles in your relationship with your brother in the coming years. Enjoy his company now, while you can and do not look at him as being inferior. He might not fit your definition of strength, but he is strong, and he may yet surprise you."

"Yes, Mother," he replied in a low, reluctant tone.

"I'm glad we have that settled. Your father will still have to hear about this," she warned. "He will be back from the council later." Thor's mouth opened in protest, but he knew better than to speak. "His heart will soften if he knows you have already made amends with your brother. However, I'm sure he will have a lecture and punishment in mind for you."

"_For me?_ But I..."

"Yes, you showed restraint by not drawing your own sword against Loki since you knew he was inexperienced, but your strike against him was deliberate, even if the amount of force you used was accidental. Do not be too concerned, I am certain your brother will be there to keep you company, once he has healed. I understand the stables need a thorough cleaning. Perhaps you will be able to mend your relationship while bailing hay." He nodded with a sigh and turned to walk into the healing chambers. "Thor," she started again.

"Yes, Mother?"

"This game - _The Jotun and the Maiden - _I don't want you to play it again, understood?"

Thor furrowed his brow in confusion, but it was not worth pursuing an explanation or argument. "Yes, Mother," he simply replied.

The sharp pain in his ribs had made it difficult to breathe as his brother and their friend carried him through the hills and the outer boundaries of their city. When combined with the heat of the day and the length of their journey, Loki found it difficult to remain conscious. As soon as the healers mended his wound with their stones, relief washed over him like a cool blanket and he fell asleep. He didn't wake up to the creak of the chamber door, or the click of her heals on the stone floor. He did, however, open his eyes when he felt someone take his hand. His heart jumped when he realized who had his hand. She smiled down at him, her skin glowing in the firelight in the room. A knot formed in his stomach, his jealously increasing as he thought of how much more frequently her smile was directed at his brother.

"How are you faring?" she asked.

As his half-slumbering brain processed her question, he suddenly became aware of the fact that the healers had removed his coat, armor, and shirts in order to examine his ribs. He frantically released her hand and searched for a blanket or robes, anything to make him feel less self-conscious about his skinnier frame. He tore the sheet out from the mattress underneath him and wrapped it around his shoulders.

"Umm... well; thank you," he answered, running a hand through his dark hair. Sif nodded and sat down on the edge of the large bed on which he was resting. She didn't say anything else, and he searched his thoughts for something that would break the silence. "I'm a little tired."

"That's understandable. You walked a very long way with one of your ribs sticking from your gut," she said, her voice filled with humor, and unless he was mistaken, admiration for his tenacity.

Loki smiled at the compliment, but as soon as his heart soared, it sank again. The memory of the events came back to him, accompanied by his embarrassment and anger. He felt unpleasant about his actions, almost _ashamed,_ but at the same time, he remained content to place the blame with this brother for his humiliation. "I'm sorry you didn't get the opportunity to train," he said quietly.

She shrugged lightly. "That's alright," she said. "I am certain I will get plenty of exercise in the weeks to come." He only nodded. Moments went by silently and he berated himself for losing his speechcraft during this rare time alone with her. "For the record," she started; Loki was grateful for the break in the silence. "I always believed that game was foolish."

Her words returned the smile to his lips. "Agreed," he said. Once again, a blanket of silence fell over the pair. Sif crossed her legs and sighed; Loki stared at the dried blood on his hands, a question coming to his mind. He believed she was being kind by visiting him, but she seemed to be waiting for something, and she made no effort to pursue conversation or to care for him. "Was there something else?" The question came out in a harsher tone than what he had intended. She stood, and for a moment, he was worried he had offended her.

"No, the queen asked me to check on you so she could have words with Thor," she answered, apparently ignoring or failing to notice the passive aggression in his question. "I don't wish to leave until I am sure that they are finished."

"Of course," he responded stoically, masking his disappointment.

She played with her fingers and paced slowly around his bed. "Do you think they will be strict with him? It was not his intention to injure you as he did. If they could've seen his face after he..." she trailed off.

Loki once again ran his hand through his hair, silently cursing the strand that was long enough to fall in his eyes, but too short to push behind his ear as he carefully considered a response. "He struck me in anger. I believe Father will be very displeased, but I do not know to what extent."

"But you were the one who started it," she argued. She turned to meet his eyes, but saw dismay in his expression and lost her anger. "Never mind; I suppose it doesn't matter."

A line of red appeared over Loki's cheeks; he drew his knees up to his chin and allowed his hair to hide his eyes. It didn't take long for her to jump to his brother's defense, even though _he _had been the one to get hurt. "You care for my brother that much?"

She turned her head away from him, several strands of her golden hair falling loose from her neat ponytail. With only a nod, she answered affirmatively, but her silent answer had said more to him than a verbal response ever could.

He did not know why he'd asked the next question, or how he worked up the nerve to say it. "Do you care for me?" A lump formed in his stomach; he was startled to notice that his heart was beating wildly within his chest. This confused him.

"Of course, Loki," she answered. For a moment, the knot in his stomach loosened. "We've been friends for a long time."

Those last words confirmed what Loki had already surmised from his observation of Sif's evolving relationship with Thor. He was not yet talented enough in his deceptive ways to hide the impact of her rejection. "You don't care for me in the same way as my brother..."

Her face filled with pity, and all of a sudden, the pain that Loki felt regarding this her silent rebuff changed to anger. He did not need or desire to be looked at with such an expression. He was a powerful son of Odin, a warrior in his own right, and an adept student of magic. _No one_ had the right to look at him like that.

Sif fought for an answer that might have put him at ease, but she knew Loki well enough to know that he would take it as a patronizing slight. The creak of the heavy door saved her from needing a response. Thor entered the room and approached his brother's bedside. Sif excused herself and left.

Thor waited until he heard the door close, but even when the clank of metal sounded throughout the chamber, he did not speak. He picked up the bowl of healing stone residue the healers had used to repair Loki's ribs and sifted it through his fingers with curiosity. The bulk of the stones disappeared when they were used; this much residue meant that a large stone was required. He cleared his throat and put down the bowl. His head dropped, so that he was looking at the floor while he spoke, but his voice was warm and honest. "I am sorry, Brother. I'm sorry for losing control and hitting you and I'm sorry for dismissing you as I did."

"You're only saying that because Mother is making you."

Thor chuckled. "Yes, I am," he said honestly. "I think you were stupid for swinging a sharpened weapon at me and you _deserved_ a punch to the gut."

Loki raised an eyebrow and looked up at him, ready to begin an argument. Before he could speak a word, Thor continued.

"I did not, however, intend on hurting you, either physically or by making you feel - inferior. For this, I am truly regretful."

The hard expression on the younger Odinson softened. "I _can _fight," he spoke.

"I know you can - just not with anything heavy enough to require two hands - not until you get stronger," Thor explained. "We can work on that, together, if you would like."

Loki looked up at him, suspicious of his offer, but curious. "Really?"

"I have a few weeks before I have to begin work at the academy. We can train together; I can help you get stronger, and you can help me improve my control. I was thinking, perhaps we could find and enchantment for your daggers to make them duller and better for practice."

Loki blinked in surprise. He had been working on learning weapon enchantments and had practiced channeling his magic through the blades, but enchanting them to be safer for practice purposes hadn't occurred to him. It was a good idea, and he was impressed that his brother had noticed it was a topic of his study, as Thor usually ignored anything having to do with his brand of magic. "I would like that," he said. "I'm - also sorry, Brother."

Thor smiled and placed a supportive hand on Loki's shoulder. "So we are good, then? I don't enjoy being at odds with you. I love you."

"As do I, Thor."

"Good," he said joyously. "Now that we've settled our differences - Mother would like to speak with you, if you are up to it."

Loki had expected it, but he sighed dejectedly. "I suppose I should get this over with."

"Father will not return for hours and Mother has given us plenty of time for this discussion.

There's no hurry."

Loki smiled. The two boys spent the next couple of hours in the recovery room, delaying the inevitable, unpleasant confrontation with their father about the incident. Loki's heart was heavy after his discussion with Sif, but he forgot his anger toward Thor and his insecurities surrounding his strength. The brothers spoke while they played a game on the floor, reviewing strategies for their training and talking about their futures within the academy. For the moment, the house of Odin was peaceful, but it would be short-lived.

When the brothers felt they could no longer procrastinate without getting into even more trouble, they left for the throne room to meet with their parents. Thor sent Loki in first, as he had not spoken with either parent since he'd been rushed in with his injuries. The moment Loki entered the throne room, his sensitive ears picked up a discussion between his parents and an argumentative tone in his father's voice. He looked back at the entrance to the room, debating on leaving until their discussion was over, but his father's use of his brother's name caught his ear. Instead of leaving his mother and father to their discussion, he ducked behind a pillar and listened.

"...loss of control is no reaction for a future king!" Odin said sharply, his voice escalating to nearly a yell when he was finished.

"I have already assigned punishment," Frigga responded.

Odin sighed angrily. "He is growing older; he needs to learn - wrong actions have consequences worse than cleaning stables. If he is to rule, he must learn to anticipate the effects of his choices."

"You would have him flogged?" she asked wryly.

"Of course not," Odin replied quickly, "but you were too soft."

"Perhaps, but he's still a boy. There will be many opportunities for him to learn about consequences," she argued. Odin did not return her argument. He crossed his arms and paced, considering her words. "What of Loki?" she asked after some silence. "Do you feel I should be harder on him as well?"

"No," he answered, "he is still young, and I believe this behavior will stop once Thor is living at the academy."

Loki frowned; his father's words should have brought him relief, but there was something almost patronizing in his tone. The quiet voice of his mother returned, echoing the question that was slowly forming in his own mind. "Unequal punishments for similar wrongs - is age really the only reason behind your judgment?"

"What are you intending to say?"

"When you referred to Thor's behavior, you spoke as though you have already made up your mind regarding a successor."

Loki suddenly felt it hard to swallow and the knot that had been in his stomach nearly all day had returned. Odin did not respond to his wife's implication for a number of moments, but Loki stayed in his place, frozen as he listened intently for his father's answer.

"It has to be Thor," Odin stated quietly, "you know this. Even if the council petitioned for Loki, I could not, in good conscious change my decision."

His vision went red, tears filled his eyes and ran down his cheek. _It has to be Thor..._ He knew the odds were in favor of his older brother, but it was painful shock to hear the decision had been made so early, _years_ before tradition normally dictated for the naming of a successor to any line. What was so wrong with him or right with Thor that his father would have made up his mind so quickly?

"...tell him the truth before it becomes even more painful for him to hear." His mother's voice broke in through the loud beats of his heart and ears that were deafened by his anger. He strained to listen, but as he leaned further around the pillar he was hiding behind, the rubber soul of his shoe squeaked against the smooth, tile floor. The noise was heard by both Odin and Frigga, who immediately stopped their conversation.

Loki fought the temptation to run away, or to lash out in the midst of his anger. Odin's wrath was not to be taken lightly, though, and he didn't know where he would go. His instinct kicked in and he took a deep breath, willing his heart rate down before discretely wiping the tears from his cheeks. The thought occurred to him that it would be a long time before the coronation would occur. Perhaps he still had time to prove himself to the Allfather - and to Asgard.

Neither parent seemed to be concerned that he had overheard them as he walked down the hall and closer to the throne. His ability to disguise his feelings seemed to be getting better. He bowed respectfully and allowed his parents to speak.

As expected, Odin delivered a lecture on control and strength of mind. His mother prodded him for putting his brother in the path of a sharpened blade without adequate training on the weapon. He listened to both parents intently and respectfully, never betraying the hurt and anger that had welled up within him. However, whether it was the disappointment of Sif's rejection coupled with the revelation that he was not favored for the crown, or ordinary adolescent rebellion in the face of his quickly changing world, the wise words of Odin did not reach his heart as they once had.

The events of that day were a catalyst for Loki. His mischief was taken to another level, from innocent play that rarely caused any irreparable harm, to sinister and often cruel pranks. He quickly began to lose his footing with friends he had considered close; his trust in others diminished as did their trust of him. Thor and Sif began to officially court, which deepened his distance from his brother, even though they had grown up so close.

Thor became a well-loved and well-respected figure almost immediately upon his entrance into the academy. Bitterness and resentment grew in Loki's heart as he tried, but failed, to outperform his brother and build favor within Asgard and with its current king. Loki's focus changed after that day from winning the crown to winning revenge. The more Loki felt abandoned and left alone, the more he pushed himself away from those who loved him. His father's rejection of him and his actions towards Jotunheim during Thor's banishment were blades to the last threads of loyalty he felt for his family. He descended into his own madness, creating chaos and leaving deep scars across the histories of three worlds. However, even after he had been defeated and humiliated by five particularly stubborn Midgardians and his brother, he wasn't finished. Someone of his cunning intelligence wouldn't attempt an attack on the universe without a backup plan…


	2. Chapter 2: The Return

The bright light of the earth's sun faded to darker, richer tones and a sky forever filled with stars as Asgard came into view. When the blue haze from the Tesseract's power diminished, the fine, golden towers of the palace became visible. Their height and majesty surpassed what he remembered; it seemed like he had been away for an extraordinarily long time. Perhaps this was the effect of the change in the way time flowed between Asgard and the mortal realm.

There were people gathered around the entrance to the palace, seemingly awaiting their return. Loki surmised this was his "welcoming party" of gawkers who had come to quietly berate and watch the poor, fallen prince as he walked to his doom. He was leashed and muzzled like a dog, and the staring faces of those who had once bowed to him renewed the anger and humiliation he already in his defeat.

He was fairly certain the deepest dungeon in Asgard was what was awaiting him, but it didn't leave his mind that the chopping block was another distinct possibility. A death sentence was the only way he could really lose. Loki had always planned to return to Asgard, either as an attacking force, or a vanquished enemy. It was a calculated risk that he may end up facing something worse than prison when he arrived, but he wagered that the queen and king would have mercy on the man they had raised from infancy. His greatest ally in this leg of his struggle would be his silver tongue and any sense of sentimentality his adoptive parents still held for him.

Thor was surprised by the size of the crowd that had gathered to witness their return and he was also stunned by their hostility towards the returning prince. He could sense bloodlust from every direction, and the scent of weapons polish was heavy in the air. Thor felt uneasy in the midst of the mob; he silently wondered if he would end up protecting his brother more than escorting him. He grabbed Loki's arm and abruptly pulled him into a closer proximity to him as he led him through the huge palace doors and down the Hall of Odin. The crowd began to follow.

"This is unnecessary," Thor said firmly, addressing those who insisted on remaining in close company. "I can escort my brother alone."

The crowd began to murmur their protests. "He uses his craft cunningly! He'll change into a snake and slither away," he heard one man say.

"He'll poison your thoughts," said another.

Loki grinned madly under his mouthpiece. Judging by their reactions, he was more powerful than he had ever been before; his influence also seemed to travel much further with the citizens of Asgard as an enemy than it had as a prince. "I can assure you, he will not try to escape. He has nowhere to run." Loki looked towards his brother; his grin grew slightly larger.

"Thor, allow _us_ to accompany you," argued a familiar and distinctly female voice. The crowd broke away to reveal Sif and the Three. "He attacked us as well; we could serve as counsel."

"Yes, and it will also be quite gratifying to see him get his just desserts," Fandral spoke.

Thor considered it for a moment, torn by his desire to keep the inevitable affair as private as possible, and his loyalty to his friends and his realm. It would be better for Asgard if there were witnesses to Odin's judgment. However, it would be worse, almost dangerous, for Loki to go on trial surrounded by people who wished to cut his throat for his actions against the king and his destruction of the Bifrost.

While they stood, Loki looked up curiously at Sif, his eyes locking intensely on her. She could sense his hard stare and glanced in his direction. Their eyes met momentarily, but she faltered quickly, her frown deepening as she looked away.

_Is that pity - or fear?_ Loki wondered.

Thor took a deep breath and rubbed his forehead. "Very well," he started, failing to notice his brother's behavior, "you may follow, but please remain quiet and keep your distance. If you are asked to leave, do so immediately. I don't know what my father has in store for him, and I fear your presence may incite his wrath."

Sif and the Three bowed as a sign of agreement. Thor continued inside with Loki, Sif following cautiously behind the two Odinsons. Fandral and Volstagg exchanged concerned glances, but the Three followed as well.

The great doors to the Hall of Odin opened, revealing a crowd of nobles, elders, and council members that had gathered to witness Loki's judgment. Thor cursed quietly; he had hoped there wouldn't be an audience, that he could express to his brother what had to be said about his betrayal and his lies without having to worry about showing weakness or mercy. Odin, however, seemed indifferent to having a crow present.

The hall was very long, but even from the far side of it, Odin could be clearly seen sitting high upon his golden throne. His stare was fixed on Loki the moment they walked through the door, but his face lacked even the slightest hint of emotion. The queen, however, was not positioned in her normal place beside his chair. She was standing on the floor at the bottom of the stairs; her hand was covering her mouth as though she was preventing herself from revealing the true depth of her sadness. As they walked closer, Loki could see moisture in her eyes and trails of water on her cheeks. She was never effective in her attempts to hide her emotions, which made her a passionate, but often over-sentimental leader. If Loki was going to keep his head, it might prove wise to seek her support.

"You have done well, Thor," Odin greeted his son in a warm, but authoritative tone. "The last time we defended Earth against an invading army, it took nearly every warrior in our realm; you managed to succeed alone."

Thor bowed and put his right hand over his heart. "Thank you Father, but I was not alone. The people of Midgard are much stronger than they were one thousand years ago, and they have mighty representation."

"Do not trivialize your own victory," Odin said. "You showed courage, strength, wisdom, and restraint. I could not have expected more - and Earth could not have asked for a better advocate."

"Thank you," he said again.

Odin's focus shifted to Loki, and as fast as a strike of lightning, his mood changed. His face became red with anger and his fist turned white as he tightly gripped Gungnir. "It is unfortunate that such a victory should have been won against the treachery and failure of family."

Loki's head was bent down, and as Odin spoke the word "family" he looked up, granting his father the iciest stare he could from his cold, blue eyes.

"The question remains, what do we do with a prince that has done everything in his power to betray his own realm, his station - and the ones who care for him?" Odin's voice waivered, but it did not break; tears lined his eye, but they didn't fall upon his cheek. "What would be fitting for a liar, a murderer, and a traitor?"

It was a question Thor had been considering since the day he and the others on his team had defeated Loki. Despite the time that had passed, he still could not answer. In the back of his mind, he knew what he would be demanding if any other person was standing in Loki's place, but the memories of his younger brother filled his heart with a sad longing for that boy's return. He couldn't find or say the words for the order; he couldn't ask for his brother's death.

The longer Thor remained silent, the louder the whispers from the audience became. As they stood there, the group that had come to witness the trial began to demand the chopping block. This drew some protests from those who believed he should be burned alive due to his vast store of magical energy. The crowd's noise grew too loud for Thor to focus and Odin slammed the end of his staff into the ground. The unnaturally loud _clang_ that resounded throughout the room quieted the crowd, but it did not serve to clear Thor's thoughts.

Loki remained surprisingly quiet through all of this, except for the occasional clatter of the chains that bound his hands. He offered no defense for his actions or alibi. Instead, he stood back and assessed the situation by carefully reading the faces of the three people he had considered family. Frigga, who had been trying to remain quiet and stoic, made the critical error of looking up at him. She couldn't bear to see him in chains or the horrible muzzle that wrapped around his head. Her brow furrowed and fresh tears rolled freely down her cheek.

"Mother..." His soft voice sounded muffled from behind his mask. It was the first word he had spoken since in quite some time, and his voice was rough from lack of use.

Frigga's face contorted in sadness. She took a step towards him, reaching out for his hands. Her eyes filled with pity, love, and despair.

Like the mighty roar of a lion, Odin's voice echoed down the great hall of the throne room. Sif and the Three were startled by the sheer volume and power behind his shout, and were shocked it had been directed towards the queen in such a public venue. The muttering crowd had been completely silenced. Sif scoffed quietly; she could sympathize with the queen's feelings towards the man she had raised. However, even despite Sif's distance from Thor and Loki, she could tell what his intentions were by calling to Frigga first.

The queen dropped her arms and returned to her position by the stairs in front of the throne. She did not argue Odin's rebuke. Her expression remained stoic and dignified - the image of strength expected from the Queen of Asgard. However, the softness that remained in her eyes when she looked at Loki indicated that her opinion of her son was not congruent with her husband's.

Odin rose from his throne and slowly descended the stairs. When he reached the bottom, he placed a hand on her shoulder, a silent sign of peace she would understand. As he walked, the sound of Gungnir falling with every step resounded throughout the hall. He stopped a full ten paces in front of Loki, narrowing his eye and furrowing his brow as he carefully examined the man he called "son," but he sensed no regret and saw little that resembled the boy who had grown up in the palace. Loki met his eye and smirked, silently challenging him to cast judgment. Odin's rage returned; he slammed his staff down, creating a sound so loud that even the guards toward the back of the hall moved to cover their ears. Loki didn't flinch.

"Your actions have accelerated the demise of Jotunheim and have caused thousands of deaths in Midgard. You've raised a blade to the throat of your brother and those who had called you 'friend.' I should kill you now and be done with it," he said through a growl. He took a deep breath; his voice quieting to nearly a whisper, "and yet I have not the heart to go through with it. Perhaps - I have grown too soft in these later years of my life."

"Father..." Thor started. Odin put a hand up to silence the words he believed would follow.

"Did Midgard make any demands when you took him?"

"No," Thor answered, "only that they wanted justice."

Odin showed minor annoyance with the vague nature of Earth's request. "I have not been there in a very long time. Do you believe they would desire us to put him to death?"

Thor rubbed his chin with this thumb as he considered his response carefully. "It is difficult to say. The Midgardians can be quick to anger and prone to violence, but in the time of my visits, I was shown great compassion and care. I'm not certain what they would want; they entrusted the decision to us believing we would make the right one."

"Odin..." Frigga spoke, approaching her husband and intertwining her hand in his. She didn't speak any further. The tender touch and the look in her eyes was enough of an argument. He knew where she stood.

He nodded slightly, acknowledging her silent plea to save Loki's life. "The 'right' decision..." he said, mostly to himself.

Odin walked over to the side of the hall near a large, open wall that looked out over the city. Their star was setting for the day and its light was casting a golden glow over Asgard. As he looked out at the horizon filled with reds, yellows, and swirling blues, he allowed his mind's eye to travel through Yggdrasil and its realms. He focused on the city on Earth that Loki had attacked, the large populated area over which he had released an army bent on pure destruction.

A memorial wall had been built around and area of the city commemorating the faces and names of those who had been killed; flyers taped and stapled to the wall begged for information on those who remained missing after the attack. There seemed to be a permanent haze filling the air caused by dust from the clean-up demolition. Some of Thor's companions were busy there helping and supervising the rebuild. A flying man in bright red armor helped lift steel beams from the ground; another man dressed in blue adorned with a single, white star on his chest gave orders to rescue teams who were still searching for trapped survivors and the remains of the dead who had been buried in debris. It had only been a number of days, and the weight of the loss was apparent on the grim faces of those who were working hard in the midst of cleanup efforts.

Odin looked gravely at Loki. Although he had a benefactor and a coconspirator, he bore the responsibility of this attack alone - at least on this day in Asgard's hall. The Allfather could not process the fact that this monster was the same boy who used to demand nothing more than a story of his father's many conquests before he went to bed for the night; he couldn't connect the stranger that stood before him with the child that would hug him tightly around the waist every time he returned from off-world. However, despite the distance that had grown between him and his son, he felt a great dissonance in his position as king and his role as Loki's father. If there was even a small chance that his son was still inside the empty shell that was chained on the floor of his throne room, he could not give the order for his death.

Odin glanced around the room at the crowd who sat silently as they awaited his judgment. "No matter what he has meant to us in the past, Loki cannot escape punishment," he started, facing Thor again, "but as to whether or not he will die for his crimes - I leave that decision to Asgard's future king."

The noise from the crowd increased once again; even Loki looked up in surprise. The idea that his life would be in his brother's hands was an interesting twist, but he wasn't quite sure what it meant. He was counting on the sentimentality of the king and queen, but Thor had been on the frontlines of Loki's attacks and may not feel the same unconditional attachment. Had he tested Thor's patience one too many times?

In the background, the Three looked at each other with some concern. Sif frowned; Thor had changed since his banishment on Earth. He had become a gentler version of his previous self in a very short time. While this made him calmer and more calculating in his actions, it created doubt in his ability to see past his love for his brother to the truth of his deplorable actions.

"Father..." Thor began in protest. "What you ask of me - it's too much."

"I know I have burdened you," Odin replied, "but those are decisions a king must often make. You were there with him; you have a clear perspective and context of his actions, and you know the scope and depth of the pain that he has caused."

Thor couldn't find the words to speak. His father remained stoic and did not reveal his own will for the situation. His mother's eyes silently pleaded for her younger son. Loki, however, would not meet his stare. Instead, he remained unmoving, his expression completely blank as he looked at the ground in front of him.

"You could make this easier by at least _pretending_ to be sorry," Thor said to Loki in an angry whisper. "Don't you have _anything_ to say in your own defense?"

Loki did not respond.

Thor looked back at his friends for support, but the counsel they had offered did not come for this immense decision. "No, I..." Thor started, looking again to his brother for any sort of reaction. "I _cannot_ sentence a prince of Asgard to his death."

The queen quietly released a breath she had been holding; Odin nodded. "Very well," he stated. "Loki - Laufeyson..." he paused, feeling a pain of regret in his heart when he addressed him with this title. He ignored the dull roar of the confused audience and continued without explanation. The message wasn't intended for them, it was only important that Loki understood its meaning. "I hereby sentence you to be flogged and imprisoned for the rest of your natural life, or until Thor sees fit to end it."

Even in the face of judgment, Loki did not move or react. The only emotion he'd shown aside from snide confidence was toward the queen, and this was the only person within the nine realms that owned even an ounce of his regret. This affection for her would not last long, however. As his conscience slowly burned away with time, so did the last vestiges of his attachment to his family. Eventually, he knew he would view even her as nothing more than an obstacle in his path.

"You still have nothing to say?" Thor asked, a hint of desperation in his voice. Although he was keeping his head, a flogging, in Asgard's definition, was far from pleasant. He'd seen much stronger men than his brother beg for the ax before their punishments were over. A lifetime within Asgard's scarcely-used prison was also no small matter. Loki may have won his life, but he was headed towards a painful, dark future. Thor's anger burned regarding the losses on Earth Loki had caused, but there was a part of him that felt protective of him, even still.

When it became clear that Loki would not stand or testify in his own defense, Odin spoke again. "Take him away."

Loki's chains rattled violently as two guards grabbed either arm. Two additional sets of guards followed him to the front and behind, escorting him to the courtyard outside of the prison entrance. Before they left, Odin whispered to the guards, ordering them to bar any civilians from the viewing platforms. The onlookers had witnessed enough, and he cared not to satisfy their morbid curiosity.

When they arrived in the courtyard, the guards unchained Loki's arms in order to begin stripping him to his skin. His long cape, gauntlets, belts, armor, and shirts were gradually removed until he was completely exposed above his waist. The light from the setting sun cast a warm glow against the pale skin of his chest. For a moment, he looked healthy and normal, like the man he had been such a short time ago.

The guards strapped his arms tightly around a stone slab that was planted in the ground in the middle of the courtyard; his cheek was pressed firmly against the stone's cool surface, causing the mask he still wore to dig into his face. His shoulders were stretched nearly to their limit, pulling the surface of his back in order to provide the flogger with a larger, blank canvas on which to do his work. Loki closed his eyes and braced himself, awaiting the first bite of the whip.

"...no, this is part of the sentence is _not_ necessary! There is nothing to be gained by further bloodshed! You _cannot..._" he heard his mother's voice echo around the empty yard. His family had followed them down along with Sif who, for once, was not accompanied by the Three. His father yelled something indiscernible in reply, but the queen rebuked it. "_You_ brought him into this house! _You_ asked me to nurse him, to raise him - to love him as my own - and yet you cannot understand, after everything, why I would be so desperate to protect him? I am his mother!"

"What would you have me do, send him to Earth? It would only be worse, and you would never see him again!" Odin yelled. He sighed, allowing his frustration to lessen before continuing. "You do not understand what harm he has caused. My decision is final."

Frigga looked sadly at her son, strung up like a beast awaiting slaughter. "I will _not _witness this," she said firmly, "and the council will mark my protest with this decision."

Odin nodded slightly, acknowledging her argument; she turned and quickly walked back into the palace.

Thor watched her leave. For a moment, Sif thought he would follow her, not to convince her to return, but so that he could avoid watching it as well. Sif walked up behind him and placed a supportive hand on his arm, but he didn't acknowledge her. She bit her lip nervously and removed it again.

"Thor, he is anxious," she said.

Thor turned his head back towards the courtyard and his brother. "Of course he is," he said quietly, furrowing his brow. "He's about to be beaten to the brink of death."

"No, the scourgeman, he's nervous - and he's hesitating," she explained.

"Why would you say that?" he asked, shaking himself from his thoughts. The gallant Einherjar of Asgard were not known for allowing themselves to appear timid.

"He hasn't yet begun, and he seems to look to you for some sort of affirmation," she explained. "I suppose I would hesitate to obey in this duty as well, and would want a show of final support."

Thor shook his head. "He is loyal to the king – and he has carried out this punishment many times before."

"Never on a prince who previously owned his fealty," she argued.

Thor remained silent for a moment, considering her observation. "Perhaps exaggerations of Loki's power have spread unfounded fear."

"Then he looks to you for security," she said. He looked towards her in confusion. "I know this is difficult, but for you, this is a good thing. Your willingness to oversee your beloved brother's punishment has shown them that you hold nothing above the welfare of Asgard and its people. You have always been well-liked, but this will earn you much of their respect." She gently took his hand.

He took a deep breath. "I hope you're right," he said, kissing the top of her hand. She smiled at the act, a token of affection he used to do all the time, but had decreased as of late. He smiled lightly at her, though the sadness and insecurity in his eyes overwhelmed any sense of reassurance. He turned to the flogger, who seemed as apprehensive as Sif had described. The Einherjar looked from Loki back to Thor repeatedly, running the sharp leather strips of the whip through his fingers, to the ragged stones at their end.

Thor's signal to the guard was subtle, but whatever encouragement the guard inferred from it was enough. The flogger was swift; Thor didn't see him bring his arm forward, but he heard the crack of the leather as it sped through the air. Sif jumped lightly and covered her mouth. Loki hadn't made a sound, but the red stripes of raw flesh and the trails of blood falling down his back attested to the strength of the strike; it was only the first of many.

Odin walked away when the punishment began, but Thor never once left the court until it was over. By the time the fortieth mark was made, Loki's back was a map of welts, torn flesh, and blood. His long, sweat-soaked hair mingled with the tears from his eyes, obscuring his face behind an obsidian curtain. He never cried out; the loudest sound he allowed to escape his throat was the occasional grunt through gritted teeth. It would've brought minor relief to Thor to hear some kind of noise, whether it was a shout of pain, or his maniacal laugh. The silence was almost too much to bear.

After the first few lashes, Sif had not been able to continue watching. She turned her back, closing her eyes at the sound of every impact. When it was over, she turned back towards the yard and Thor could see moisture lining her eyes.

"Do you still believe this was a good thing?" he asked in a low voice.

She opened her mouth to answer, but couldn't speak. Loki had done some horrible things in his life, and she had been suspicious of his intentions for years. However, with every strike, her anger had been dulled. Her thoughts were filled with the image of the boy she used to play with every so often, the child who would excitedly brag to her when he learned a new trick, desperate to draw her attention from his older brother and always trying too hard to impress her. If this act of justice had elicited such an emotional response in her, she could not imagine how Thor felt, having given the order to begin the punishment himself despite his continued love for his brother.

When it was clear she couldn't answer his question, Thor walked away, his skin pale with a kind of exhaustion he had never before experienced.

The guards unstrapped Loki's arms from around the slab of rock. For the first time, he let out a yell as they forced him to stand. The flesh on his back moved as he changed his posture, causing a sudden surge of agony to shoot up and down his entire body. A wave of remorse and sympathy washed over Sif - not for Loki, but for Thor. Loki had forced his hand several times now, but Thor had always hoped that he would eventually return to his place by his side. This punishment, no matter how well-deserved it was, was a wedge that would only drive them further apart.

* * *

The dark of night fell over Asgard. The king and queen had eventually gone to their quarters, the crowd had dispersed from the hall, and Thor had gone off on his own to think. The palace had fallen silent; the only thing that could be heard was the occasional _crack_ of the wood in its various large fireplaces and the soft foot falls of the guards as they made their rounds.

Sif had gone to back to her house for a moment and had returned to pass some time in the hall, a fully packed satchel at her side. She waited before moving on, hoping to make the trip down to the dungeon without causing controversy or sparking gossip between the particularly nosey individuals who had come to watch the trial. She was also waiting for the guards to settle Loki into his new dwellings. Her procrastination wasn't necessarily due to fear; she was wise enough to know better than to pet a rabid dog without a muzzle. By now, he would be in his cell, protected by guards, with chains and his mask in place to prevent him from being able to cast his illusions, or other trickery.

With a torch in her hand and her bag around her shoulder, she descended into the one place in Asgard she had never been - the lower dungeon. Light and air disappeared as she walked down the long stairwell. It was somehow drafty and stifling at the same time. Dampness leaked through the walls, making the air thick with humidity. It was no wonder the people of Asgard often preferred a flogging to prison time, if they were given the choice. Away from the warm light of Asgard's sun, brilliant sky, and fresh, clean air, this place felt like death.

As she approached the bottom of the stairwell and the first set of heavy security doors, she was greeted by two Einherjar who inquired about her business. She told them a half-truth, indicating that she was there on Thor's orders, even though she was not; the guards did not question her honesty. As a childhood friend of Thor's and a high-ranking warrior in her own rite, she carried a small, but convenient amount of authority and respect within the palace walls.

She passed through the second, inner set of doors without further interruption. It seemed Odin felt comfortable leaving only a small garrison of guards down with Loki. The only other sentries were two in front of his cell door; she surmised that they had probably installed some other security measures to ensure he wouldn't escape.

Even in the darkness, she could see his figure slumped over on the hard plank of wood that served as his bed. He shivered violently due to the pain of his wounds and the draft in the air. His robes were folded neatly beside him, but his arms were chained tightly around his chest; he couldn't move, let alone dress himself, and he couldn't lie down. Despite the severity of his injuries, he leaned against the wall of his cell, allowing the cool of the stone to numb the welts, bruises, and deep gashes on his back.

She remained still and stared at him for a moment. Although he was shaking, sweat poured down his face and onto his lap; his complexion was sickly pale and his breath was becoming more and more ragged. He seemed helpless and harmless, but her mind still waivered regarding her decision.

"Let me in and lock the door behind me," she told the guard.

"My Lady..." he protested.

"I will take full responsibility if something should happen," she interrupted.

The guard hesitated, but complied with her request.

The door opened with a creak of rusted hinges and Loki looked up at her. Through the grates in his mask, she could see him grinning wickedly, but his short, shallow breaths betrayed the reality of his pain.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of _your_ visit?" he asked, his rich voice resounding through the empty, dungeon.

She swallowed hard, pushing the uneasy feeling in her gut down. His bright blue eyes bore into her as he awaited her response; she looked away in an attempt to ignore his stare. "I'm here to offer some assistance," she said, opening the top of her pack to reveal a large quantity of healing stones.

"I don't recall asking for your help," he spat.

"I didn't say it was for _your_ benefit. Thor looked as though he had taken your lashing upon himself; he was physically ill after the trial. I've come to alleviate his wounds by healing yours."

"Don't I feel sorry for _him._" Loki spoke his sardonic reply slowly and deeply.

She disregarded his sarcasm. "You don't wish to be healed? It will be weeks before you are able to sit normally - and I doubt the guards will know how to check for infection."

"I have always been a fast healer, Sif," he started with a chortle. "You can waste your pity elsewhere."

She sighed and stepped back to the door of his cell, calling the guard over with a wave. The guard approached and bowed lightly. "Give me the keys to his shackles."

"Lady Sif, it is too dangerous," the guard protested.

"He is _severely_ injured," Sif argued, slightly perturbed by the guard's lack of bravery.

The guard glanced at Loki as though he was waiting for him to pounce at him."That would not prevent him from using magic."

Sif crossed her arms and leaned closer to the bars of the cell. "His mask prevents him from casting magic, and if I'm not mistaken, there are several enchantments on the cell itself to shield it from magical energy, is that correct?"

"That is correct, Lady," the guard said. "However, I must advise..."

"Even a scorpion is harmless, if you remove its stinger."

The guard looked at his partner questioningly, but the other man did not respond. Hesitantly, he handed her the key through the iron bars. She nodded her thanks.

Loki watched curiously as she knelt in front of him to unlock the tight shackles that intertwined around his wrists and ankles. She seemed entirely certain he wouldn't try anything, or perhaps confident that she could best him if he did. Her assessment was probably correct, considering the measures they had taken to completely cut him off from his greatest weapon.

The thick metal rings around his wrists fell to the ground with a heavy _thud, _revealing the area where they had cut into his skin. Sif's expression softened sympathetically.

"It is astonishing how quickly friendships in Asgard are abandoned in the face of adversity," Loki said, looking towards the sentry on the left as he rubbed the sores on his wrists. "My unmerciful ward seems to have forgotten who helped him pass his third year exams at the academy."

The guard glanced at him from the corner of his eye, but did not respond.

"You would know about waning loyalties, wouldn't you Sif? Exactly how long after our return from Jotunheim did you wait before you began accusing me of conspiracy and treason?"

"Why would you address this issue _now_?" she asked, aghast that even in his hopeless state, he would attack her with the only weapon he had: his words. "I'm here to he..."

He scoffed. "You come as an angel of mercy, but I won't likely forget the fact that my plan failed because of your treachery."

Sif stiffened as his low words echoed throughout the chamber. She had not realized he heard her that day when she had spoken to the Three regarding her suspicions. "Lie down on your stomach," she ordered, ignoring his accusation.

"The others were content enough to know that I had saved their lives by informing Odin of Thor's plan, but you read right past that, didn't you?"

"And I was right," she argued. "Now lie down."

Loki chuckled dryly in response. He complied with her request and laid face-down on the bench where he sat. His skin and muscles stretched and shifted, sending red-hot waves of pain through his body as his wounds reopened. He did not cry out, but he could not disguise the hiss of pain that escaped his gritted teeth.

She slipped off her gloves and tenderly touched the swollen area around this welts where the whip had broken the skin. She needed to determine the order in which to heal him. His entire back was red and brown from his drying blood; dirt from the prison's walls smeared the surface and gathered in the jagged edges of his flesh.

"I need to wash the area first or the wounds won't close properly." She pulled out a spare piece of cloth and canteen full of alcohol, pouring the liquid over the rag until it soaked through. His breath left his lungs when she first touched his sore skin and returned only in short gasps until she was finished.

Her ministration was careful, but not overly so. Smaller wounds that had begun to scab over had reopened due to her thorough cleaning. Sharp pain came in waves across his spine, down his legs, and up to his neck. He saw stars as his vision became dark and his head swam. His lungs begged for more air, but he dare not move for a deep breath and increase his pain.

"You are difficult to predict," he said between pained gasps. Sif frowned, but she didn't request his elaboration. "I know you have felt ill against me for a while, but I didn't expect you to manipulate Thor in order to have your vengeance for the Destroyer's attack on Earth."

She didn't say anything, but for a moment, her hands stopped their work on his back. He knew he had already begun to get under her skin. "This will be easier for both of us if you don't speak," she said, resisting the urge to ask him what he meant.

"I thought it was inspired - making Thor believe he was garnering the love of his people by ensuring I was beaten as severely as possible."

"That wasn't..." she started, before abruptly cutting herself off. "I have little desire to sit here and listen to you recount what you _think_ you heard. If you continue talking, I will leave - whether you're healed or not."

"I meant no offense. On the contrary, it was very perceptive of you to notice how much I intimidated the Einherjar who was charged with flogging me. He would have left slack in his whip if Thor wouldn't have been watching him. Thor was very close to leaving or cancelling the order altogether, but you - you _convinced_ him he was fulfilling his foundational duties as future king of Asgard just by bearing witness to my punishment. It was a smart move - perhaps something _I_ would have done if I had been in your position."

She rewetted the cloth and violently pressed it into the biggest open wound in his back. He cried out; water flowed freely from his eyes. However, the moment he regained his breath, a chuckle escaped his throat. "I meant it as a compliment," he said in a deep groan.

"Will you _shut up_?"

He turned his head and rested his cheek on the bench, looking back at her as much as he could from this angle. "Maybe you could clarify your intentions by telling me exactly when it was that I lost your trust. It was well before the events on Earth. We used to be close."

"Loki..." she started lowly before he interrupted.

"Was it the incident involving your hair? I worked so hard to make that up to you..."

"Must you always play games?" she asked loudly in exasperation."If it weren't for your brother's mercy, you would have lost your head today; I had nothing to do with that decision."

He scoffed, "Oh? But I enjoy games, don't you?" The pitch and volume of his voice dropped with these words. "The last game I played was on Earth and that worked out fairly well for me."

She abruptly stopped what she was doing and looked witheringly down at him. His eyes were fixed on a distant point, and through his mask, she could see that his vicious smile had returned. "What do you mean?" She knew asking the question would only feed into whatever ploy he was currently running; the mask he wore did not tame his wicked tongue. "I would hardly consider your current position _ideal._"

" I _am_ back in Asgard. Whether I returned as a conquering enemy or a conquered one, my ultimate objective was to return."

"Why? What would make you so eager to return that you would be willing to submit to eternal imprisonment? You don't expect to be forgiven and pardoned with all that you've done..."

"Lovely Sif," he said with a light laugh, "I can't divulge _all _of my secrets."

Her brow wrinkled in worry. She had never been able to read him very well, even when they were children. When he had begun dabbling in trickery, schemes, and lies, this became even more difficult, and she couldn't begin to guess the motivations behind his actions. He had to know that she would run right to Thor with her suspicions about what he'd just said, which begged the question of whether he was only saying this to elicit an angry reaction from her or create paranoia.

She scoffed and shook her head, resuming her work. The stones she brought were easily crushed in her hands. She loosened her grip, allowing the dust to fall to the torn flesh on his back. A glow of green and yellow light could be seen clearly in the dark cell. It hurt him maddeningly at first, especially when she began rubbing the small fragments over his skin. As quickly as the pain appeared, it vanished. His breathing became slower and deeper; she wondered if he had fallen asleep.

When she was finished, he was left with several discernible scars. However, the wounds had all closed as they were supposed to, free from debris and infection. She wiped the dust from her hands and began to gather her things, but in a last minute decision, and as a favor to the boy she used to play with as a child, she did not secure his shackles.

"I may not be able guess what your plan is, Loki, but know that I will be watching you carefully. You will not get another chance to hurt the Allfather, Thor, or those who have cared for you again."

He chortled once in reaction to her statement, but did not open his closed eyes. She left and closed the cell quietly, allowing him some rest after his appointment with the whip - most likely the last restful moment he would enjoy during his stay in Asgard's prison.


	3. Chapter 3: The Prison

The passing of time was uniquely different and strange in the dungeons of Asgard. The heat and darkness generated in this deep place worked together to swallow both light and hope; even the flames of the guard's fire seemed dim and cheerless. Loki was uncertain if it had been only days, a week, or more since his sentencing. The thick walls of the prison had been constructed by mining deep into rock in order to ensure its security and didn't have the small luxury of windows. Unable to view Asgard's stars, the only way he could track the flow of time was through the changing of the Einherjar between shifts and the occasional meal he was granted when the guards were feeling brave enough to remove his mask and loosen his chains. However, one by one, the brave Einherjar of Asgard were unnerved enough to relinquish their posts in defiance of their orders, intimidated either by Loki and the rumors of his misdeeds, or by the suffocating darkness of the dungeon itself. Shift changes were often and irregular; meals were scarce.

Sleep came often for Loki, but it usually happened in short spells that brought little rest. His dreams were violent and chaotic, something that was especially disconcerting for one who could often control what happened in his own subconscious. His arms constantly ached, as they were always chained tightly against his chest. He hadn't been allowed to stretch his limbs since the night Sif had, in a moment of kindness, healed his back without shackling him afterward.

Loki had always been patient when it came to the fruition of his own plans, but his discomfort was affecting him deeply. He had already begun to lose muscle tone in his sedentary state; he could tell by the contractions of the muscles in his arms that he had grown weaker. He felt constantly ill, and his mind was beginning to play tricks on him, possibly from the lack of quality sleep or his environment. He started hallucinating lightly, feeling as though he was being watched when he wasn't, or thinking he saw something moving in his cell. This was the one problem he knew how to resolve. He just needed a project - something to keep his mind focused and busy.

The sound of heavy footsteps shook him from near-sleep. At first, he assumed it signaled a shift change, and perhaps the opportunity for a meal. However, as the individual drew closer, he recognized the weight and timing of his heavy footfalls. His guess was correct, confirmed by the rich, loud voice that was suddenly at his cell door demanding to be let in.

He groaned lightly and lifted his head up, blinking the haze from his eyes as Thor's form came into view. "I was wondering when you would come. It's been so _long_ since I've had a visitor."

Thor chortled wryly. "A joke? Even in your condition?" Loki's face betrayed a brief moment of confusion. Thor wasn't sure if his expression was part of an act, but he explained. "It's been less than a week since you were sentenced. Don't tell me you've weakened to the prison so soon."

"_Less _than..."

The astonishment on his face was sincere, but Thor proceeded cautiously around the trickster. He took a torch off the wall and held it up near Loki's face. He squinted and recoiled slightly in reaction to the sudden brightness of the firelight. Thor frowned deeply; his brother's skin was nearly white and he looked thinner than he had only a short time ago. The dark circles under his eyes attested to his lack of sleep, but Thor surmised he was also not getting enough food or water.

"Your sentence has already begun taking its toll on you," Thor said with a sigh. "Father built this place as a last resort for his own people. It is said that it embodies both the suffocating heat of Muspelheim and the hopeless darkness of Niflheim, and was created this way in order to engender repentance. It was Odin's hope that the people of Asgard would fear this place, and trade any atonement in order to escape its walls. Those who have been sent here in the past often begged for death before their sentences were over."

"And you've come to persuade me to repent so you will release me..." Loki concluded.

"Absolutely not," Thor said firmly. "I doubt you will ever show any real remorse for what you've done, and if you did, I do not believe Father would ever again grant you freedom within Asgard."

Loki nodded subtly. Thor was finally beginning to understand his nature. "Then why are you here? Have you come to say goodbye? Am I to be left to rot in this vault as a forgotten remnant of your childhood?"

"In some ways, I regret not having ordered your death. If you had died, I could mourn you and move on. As it stands, I am caught between enjoying my own life and remembering what I have done to my brother."

Loki sneered. "Oh, don't concern yourself with me, _Brother._ Whatever warm memories are driving your compassion for me will fade with time. Besides, this place seems to foster a part of me I have been holding back. I rather enjoy it, actually, though I could do without this infernal mask."

"I may have had trouble seeing through your falsities in the past, but I am not stupid," Thor stated. Loki looked as though he was about to offer a clever retort, but had not the energy to see it to completion. "You are not well. I can see it, even in the dim light of this cell. I only want to make things easier for you. Cooperate with me and I will make you more comfortable."

"And how would you do that?"

Thor scratched his chin. Loki scoffed, recognizing the telltale signs that Thor had, once again, failed to think before he acted and was unprepared. "I could convince Father to continue your sentence elsewhere."

Loki didn't like alluding to the fact that the offer seemed appealing, but he hardly had the energy to argue or negotiate, and this was after less than a week in this deep place. "What would be my part? You said it yourself, my redemption is unlikely and the damage I have done is beyond repair."

"Odin would not believe you if you tried to convince him you had atoned. However, he may be persuaded of your desire to cooperate if it resulted in your personal gain. Share your information; tell us about the ally who supplied you with an army and what his future plans may be."

Loki smiled crookedly. "Ah - you've been talking to Sif," he said. He quietly laughed; he had given her too much credit. She was much more predictable than he had assumed when it came to her loyalty to Odin and Thor.

"Yes, I have. She believed you may have been simply trying to incite fear, but I know you better than that."

With a _humph_, Loki asked, "Do you?"

"You would never go out on a venture such as this one without a contingency plan. You're a planner; you were always bothered by my spontaneity. It's what makes us so different from one another."

"Oh, we are different in _many _ways, Thor," he said with a dry chuckle.

Thor sighed. "That has never stood between us before, not in any way that really mattered - until now." He kneeled in front of Loki so he could look at him on his level. "You know I have nothing to gain from this except the continued safety of Asgard and her people - but it would benefit me and the others who still care for you to see you taken from this place. Let me help you."

"I would take your offer a little more seriously if I could relieve myself without having to ask permission. These chains are hardly necessary considering my location."

Thor stood again and took a deep breath, considering Loki's suggestion carefully. "You are a powerful magician, and lately, you have begun dabbling in magics far more dangerous than your typical illusions. The chains and mask are in place to prevent you from being able to use your power. I cannot remove it without some kind of assurance..."

Loki cut him off. "Then we have no agreement."

"That isn't a reasonable demand," Thor argued. "I have the safety of the Einherjar who guard you and the entire population of Asgard to consider. What if I allowed the healers to cure the pain on your back? It must still be..."

Loki scoffed. "You mean your pet Sif didn't tell you?" It was Thor's turn to be confused. "She healed me herself, only an hour or two after they brought me down here. I'm surprised she would conceal it; she said she was doing it for your benefit."

This news was disconcerting to Thor; it showed on his face, but he did not remark on it again. "Then I have nothing more to offer until you decide to talk. Alert the guard if you change your mind."

Thor turned to the door to leave, but Loki began speaking again. "It must have felt _good_ to make your first kingly decree. When the Allfather asked you to judge me on his behalf, did it make you feel - _powerful_?" Without waiting for a response, he continued. "Do you honestly expect me to believe you would renege on such an important decision just to help me?"

The Odinson opened his mouth to argue, but closed it again, choosing instead to respond differently to Loki's accusation. "You are right about one thing, Loki: we _are_ very different from each other. You're so consumed by your selfish ambition that you cannot comprehend why we would grant you such mercy after so much wrong. Keep playing the role of the victim. If that is what you want, then you can remain here."

* * *

Thor held no delusions that he would be able to reach a reasonable agreement with Loki. However, he was unwilling to concede to the notion he had lost him forever. He would try again to convince him to speak and remind him of the chance he still had to return to his former life, but he was concerned another visit at this time would only seal his lips tighter; his next effort would have to wait a few weeks. If mere days had such an impact on him, then perhaps a month or so would inspire his cooperation.

In the interim, Thor set an appointment to speak with the captain of the Einherjar regarding Loki's state. Asgard's valiant guards were of the best blood in Yggdrasil, and they were regularly put through extensive physical and mental training regimens to ensure they were as strong and as sharp as they had to be to defeat any invading enemies. In spite of their exceptional training, several of the most resilient and brave-hearted Einherjar had found themselves losing their courage and strength of will while on duty. Some of them had described feeling as though someone had kicked the back of their knees unexpectedly; the sensation was abrupt and intense, and it left them feeling ashamed and baffled to the point that they would abandon their assigned stations - one of the greatest offenses an Einherjar could commit. As a result, their prisoner was neglected to the point of cruelty.

The dungeon had specifically been designed to drain hope from even the strongest of hearts. This wasn't aided by the fact that Loki could be a difficult and intimidating prisoner. Thor reasoned these factors, in addition to the length of time most of the Einherjar had been removed from war and real challenge, had weakened their resilience. Guarding a prisoner such as Loki in the Asgardian prison would be best left to the supervision of those who were recently war-hardened, or at least those whom he knew would not falter to unfounded fears after a short stay within its depths.

He summoned several of the strongest warriors he knew. Sif and the Three had proven

themselves many times and knew Loki well enough to see through his verbal devices. Two brothers named Folkvar and Garik had also been requested. Although Folkvar had occasionally trained with Thor and the others as a child, the brothers would be unfamiliar with Loki's games. However, they were well spoken of within the ranks, and each brought a measure of skill beyond that of any other in Asgard. Finally, Thor called the captain of the Einherjar himself, chosen as a measure of accountability for his failure to ensure his guards' resolve and dedication.

He explained the matter to the ones he had gathered, emphasizing the fact that, although he was troubled for his brother's welfare, the guards' neglect was also a concern that could result in Asgard's vulnerability. It had become more apparent with time that Loki had a coconspirator. It was imperative that someone with resilience was there in the event his benefactor attempted to contact him, or in case Loki decided to show his cards.

"And how long would this duty last?" asked a displeased Folkvar after Thor had finished his explanation.

"That is uncertain," Thor answered honestly. "My brother will not break easily, and it would not surprise me if his allies abandoned him here after his failure on Midgard."

The six that Thor had summoned sat around a circular table in one of the smaller corners of the palace. The rubber soles of Thor's boots squeaked quietly as he paced behind their chairs, the sound emphasized by the silence as each considered the prince's argument. Volstagg looked uneasily towards Fandral and Hogan while Thor's back was turned. They all seemed to have similar reservations, but their loyalty stopped them from voicing this outright.

"There are only six of us; that's a tight schedule and a long time for each to spend in that dreadful place," Volstagg stated. "We have sturdy hearts and minds, but Asgard's prison was designed to bring even the strongest to his knees."

Thor nodded. "I understand, but what I'm asking for is not a large commitment. Only a few moments each day would be sufficient. Make sure he has no primary needs and try and convince him to talk; that is all that is necessary."

"What if this is all just one of his tricks?" Fandral asked. "We could waste a very long time chasing shadows and false information. He is a crafty spinner of lies."

"I am not willing to gamble on the chance he's bluffing," Thor said firmly. "I have seen what Loki's army is capable of, and that was only our first contact. If there is a surviving leader, he will make a better effort next time."

"I have a child coming very soon," Garik spoke. "This would not be a good time for me to spend many hours away from home."

"We could arrange for your wife to stay in the palace while you're here. She will be well taken care of in exchange for your service."

"Compensation matters not to me. I can't tolerate babysitting him," Hogan said.

Thor sighed deeply through his nose, disappointed that none of them seemed willing to meet his request, though he understood the position was beneath them. "Would you consider it a personal favor, then? At least for a month or so?"

The group remained silent, but looked increasingly uncomfortable. Guard duty was not exactly in their vocational plans, but they were intensely loyal to Thor. The dissonance between their sense of duty and friendship, and their distaste for Loki and Asgard's dungeon was evident on their faces.

"This is a misappropriation of resources," the captain stated argumentatively. "What does Odin have to say about this?"

Thor remained stoic, despite his temper flaring underneath the surface. "Odin has - distanced himself from everything regarding Loki's imprisonment," he explained. "I am the authority in the matter."

The captain bowed his head in symbolic submissiveness, but he continued. "I'm only trying to say that six of our strongest warriors can be better utilized elsewhere if we are to improve our defenses against..."

"I'll do it," Sif interrupted. "I don't trust Loki - and I would sleep better if I knew he was under the watch of capable eyes."

"The Einherjar _are_ capable. They aren't to blame if the prison does what it was designed to do by overwhelming them with fear and despair," the captain stated.

"If they were truly as well-trained as I have heard, we wouldn't be here," Fandral argued. "Perhaps your perspective is skewed by your own complacency. We haven't been at war in a long time. Some of us may have grown soft in this peaceful era."

The captain abruptly stood from his chair. "I had fought my share of battles while you were still a..!"

Thor did not allow the argument to continue. "Enough!" he shouted, his roar echoing off the walls and throughout the large room. The captain sat back down out of respect, crossing his arms defensively in front of him. "I cannot force anyone to do this, for me or Asgard. If this is your wish, I will find someone more willing, or I will do it myself."

Fandral spoke hesitantly. "No - I will help Sif with her duties."

"As will I," Hogan said.

After some hesitation, Folkvar also agreed.

Thor sighed in relief and looked towards Volstagg. He rolled his eyes. "Well, I don't suppose anyone would let me live it down if I didn't help."

Thor chuckled. "Thank you, Friend."

"Very well. I will also assist you, though I'm not certain what an archer can accomplish in a confined space that a palace guard cannot," Garik spoke.

"An ally of mine once told me the best archers often see better from a distance than up close. Although they are limited by their quivers, they are effective at protecting the blind spots of the rest of the party from their distance."

Garik raised an eyebrow in confusion. "With all due respect, My Lord, I think you may be mixing metaphor with reality."

Thor put a hand on his shoulder. "You are the only one who has not had previous dealings with my brother. Your unique perspective may help us catch things our bias would cause us to miss."

"Thor is correct," said Sif. "I doubt I will ever believe another word that comes from Loki's poison tongue, even though the best liars will often build their deception upon a foundation of truth. Perhaps you will be able to discern between fact and fiction due to your objectivity."

Garik took a moment to consider what they had to say and then nodded. "From what I've heard about Loki, I don't hold much hope for your victory in this game, but I admire your effort. I hope I am able to live up to your expectations."

"Excellent," Thor said, relieved. "The captain will tell you what you will need to know, including how to remove his mask. Decide on a schedule soon, for every day that passes, his health deteriorates and his lips seal tighter."

The group silently agreed and rose to leave. As they walked out of the room, Volstagg turned to Fandral, "We're supposed to take off his mask?"

"He has to eat at some point. I thought you of all people would understand," Fandral replied with a chuckle.

"Yes, but - he is a master of magic with shape-shifting abilities. What if uses that moment to cast a spell and escape? Or what if he changes into a poisonous snake and bites us just to watch us suffer?"

Fandral stopped in his tracks and looked at Volstagg as though his old companion had lost his mind. With a hearty laugh at his expense, he slapped the other man on the back, "It's best if you don't believe every rumor you hear, Friend. Loki is still an Asgardian - there is a limit to even _his_ power without the help of powerful allies and devices."

Thor flinched lightly as he heard Fandral's words. He had debated on whether or not to tell them, but he didn't wish to worsen their thirst for Loki's blood. Sif, who had lingered behind the rest of the group, did not miss the change in Thor's expression. She catalogued the observation in her memory for a later date, feeling this was not the best time to discuss these matters. Thor, however, had a different perception.

"Would you remain behind for just a few moments, Sif?"

She nodded, sitting back down in her seat. "Is something wrong?"

"Not necessarily," Thor answered.

Sif looked at him curiously, attempting to read the face she knew so well. "This is about your brother," she inferred, realizing that if Thor had recently visited Loki, he'd probably noticed he was faring well despite the beating he had incurred just a few days before.

"You _healed _him."

"I did."

Thor verbally stumbled, not expecting her direct admission. "_Why_?" he asked in astonishment as he sat down next to her. "Why would you undo his punishment? If I were stronger, I would order him to endure it again."

"I know the council and your advisors will be pressing you to distance yourself from him - and I would agree. Your coronation draws nearer and Asgard has acquired new enemies and allies that beg for your attention. Loki should not be your chief concern right now. I did what I did in hopes of quieting him, but I also know of the pressure you place on yourself for having shouldered such a decision. At the time, I believed I would be doing you a favor..."

"Forgive me Sif, but I don't understand. If you were doing it to help _me, _why didn't you tell me?"

"Some people would consider what I did an act of treason. I thought it would be best if I didn't involve you. But I..." she sighed, finding her next words difficult to say. "I was also ashamed. I felt pity towards him - and towards you; I didn't want it known I had acted out of sentiment."

Thor smiled softly and leaned back in his chair. "You have always been concerned with appearing weak, but you are one of the strongest people I know; stronger than I, in many ways," he said. "I am glad you have been so willing to lend me your aid with this situation. I will rest much easier knowing he is under the watch of someone who exhibits such a marriage of grace and strength."

Sif stood and stepped closer to him. "That I can take some of this burden from you is a great relief to me, Thor. I would do more, if you should ask it of me," she said with a smile. His eyes shone in understanding and adoration for her. She had already committed treason for him once, ignoring the decree of the temporary King Loki and breaking the laws of Asgard by traveling to Earth without consent. "I do not want you to think you have borne this onus alone."

Sif raised her hand and placed it on his cheek as she moved nearer. Thor's smile slightly faded and his posture stiffened. She hadn't touched him like that in a long time. He stood and gently took her hand from his face, holding it in his for a moment. "You have always been a good and loyal friend to me, Sif."

Her eyes fell to the ground and her smile dimmed. "Thank you," she said simply in reply. She pulled her hand away and left abruptly. His heart ached to see her eyes lose the light they had due to his gentle rejection, but he made no move to follow and console her.

* * *

In the dungeons of Asgard, Loki busied himself by testing the limits of his abilities, despite his powers being bound by the various measures taken against him. The mask he wore prevented him from being able to focus his energy through his words; the enchantments on his cell made it difficult to expand his energy beyond his own body. However, Asgard's magicians had underestimated his strength and talent in the art of mind-based magic and Loki had located a weakness in their defenses.

At first, this weak point wasn't fragile enough for him to work with; he had been able to "whisper" in the ear of an already paranoid guard, making him think he saw something moving in the deep shadows. With a little work, he was able to make another sentry believe his food had grown mould by using an illusion. None of that was of any real use to him, aside from the occasional moment of entertainment as various Einherjar would lose their resilience and leave their posts early.

As time went by, he continued to press on the point and it grew bigger, like a crack in the icy surface of a lake. Its growth was exponential, but it expanded slowly; he knew his success would require patience. It could serve him well if he paced himself, assuming the palace magicians did not recognize their tactical gap first. Luckily, patience was one of his strongest virtues, and in time, he knew he would be able to use skills of a more pragmatic fashion.

Being able to access the conscious minds of one of the guards in order to gain control was his main objective. A full possession would not only ameliorate his current circumstances, it would also help him make things easier for his allies and a recently-acquired skill would allow him to do so without needing any additional tools. Before he could succeed, however, he would need to work through the barriers that prevented him from moving forward.

Loki leaned back against the wall of his cell. This would be his second attempt that day. Normally, he was quite exhausted after just one try, but the guards had allowed him to eat earlier and he was feeling stronger than he had in some time. He dropped his chin to his chest and closed his eyes, willing a part of his energy to travel out towards one of the sentries guarding his door.

His breathing slowed to almost nothing as he drew closer. He could almost see the matrices of the guard's conscious and subconscious thought. However, just as he believed he was making progress, he was suddenly met with stubborn resistance. Loki's intrusion into his mind had tripped an alarm of some sort, alerting the Einherjar that something wasn't quite right. In Loki's experience, this often resulted in a sensation similar to what one feels when they're being watched. He was suddenly faced with an impenetrable wall of defense as the guard tried to fathom from where the sudden, eerie feeling he just experienced had come.

Realizing that he was far from succeeding in this attempt, Loki opened his eyes and terminated his efforts. The sentry shifted uneasily in his position and began pulling at the stiff collar on his robes.

"Are you alright?" the other guard asked, noticing his partner's discomfort.

His intended target looked back towards Loki, seemingly suspicious that he had something to do with this, even though the guard believed this was impossible. "Yes, I am - suddenly not feeling well," he answered. "I think I will go get some air for a moment or two."

The other man nodded in acknowledgment and looked apprehensively back at their prisoner. With his head slightly bowed, Loki's smile was concealed by darkness. This was a stronger and longer connection that what he had previously accomplished; he was slowly regaining access to his powers. Although his progress was evident, he realized he would have to find the right mind at the right time in order to succeed to the level he needed. A mind at rest, in their cycle of dreaming, was much easier to invade and control. Not every mind would work, either. Someone who was susceptible to his lies and schemes, or someone who would allow him to get under their skin would work best.

It was odd and a bit ironic that the people he bothered the most would also be the most welcoming to the presence of his consciousness in their own mind. He believed this had something to do with how accustomed they were to dealing with him as a stressor in their waking life. A person who was not used to his ways would sense his intrusion into their subconscious. Only a person who often thought of him in a negative light would ignore his presence. Of course, the ideal candidate would also have to be someone with some authority, but not someone so high ranking that they would be carefully watched or attract suspicion if they were caught acting out of the ordinary.

Loki reviewed a list of potential candidates. This took hours, and in that time, the other sentry did not return. He was pleased with this result, as it satisfied his mischievous spirit. As a magician, however, he considered it a failed test. He had tripped too many alarms on his way into the other man's mind. His next approach would have to be much more subtle.

The heavy door to the prison opened with a groan. At first, Loki assumed the missing guard had found coverage for his position, but the footfalls were too energetic and forceful to be just another Einherjar. Loki's assessment was accurate entirely. He looked up to see the face of Fandral, complete with this immature smile and his ridiculous mustache.

"What do _you _want?" Loki asked. Although Volstagg's habits annoyed him more, Fandral was the comrade of Thor's he liked the least. This was probably due to the fact that Fandral was almost his polar opposite in personality. Of course, this also could have been due to his obsessive need to chase after women - usually the scraps that had been rejected or disappointed by Thor.

"Is that any way to treat your old friend - and your attendant?" Fandral asked. Loki furrowed his brow in confusion. "Thor wanted us to look after to you, to make sure you were fed and kept healthy. What do you say to that?" Fandral asked with a cocky flair.

Loki's brow flattened in utter annoyance. "Tell my brother that I am _not_ in need of a caretaker."

Fandral chuckled. "Really? You look a bit squalid. I would think you'd welcome the change."

Loki scoffed, but found himself almost welcoming the idea of help and did not argue. His stomach regularly ached with hunger, but his constant attempt to infiltrate the minds of the guards did not do much to improve their level of attention to his needs. "They couldn't have at least sent me the grim, silent one?"

"Who? Hogan? Oh, he'll have his turn, as will Volstagg, Sif, and a few others who were loyal enough to Thor to accept this wretched duty," he said. His voice was ever-chipper as he sat down to tend the dying fire. "We've arranged a schedule of sorts. You should feel relieved and honored."

Loki did not reply. When Fandral's voice dimmed from the echoing hallways of the dungeon, he hoped that would be the last he would hear from him, as his glorified guard duty didn't exactly require a lot of communication or redundant speech. Unfortunately for Loki, Fandral was feeling antagonistic that evening. The warrior grabbed a torch and stuck it into the fire. For a moment, the dark prison lit up with a warm light, before the shadows swallowed the flame and obscured its glow. Fandral opened the cell door and leaned against the wall opposite of Loki's bench, shining the light directly on his face. At that particular time, Loki's arms were chained tightly to his chest; his legs bound underneath the bench. His movements were limited to leaning forward and back against the wall behind him. He had no escape from whatever Fandral had planned and he had no concept of his motivations behind volunteering for the position.

"Well," Fandral started. "I know what _you've_ been up to lately. Perhaps I should update you on _my _recent achievements."

Loki groaned and leaned his head against the back wall of the cell. Fandral's mustache twitched in self-gratification as he crossed his arms and took an audible breath. "Let's see, there was the redhead from the highlands, the brunette from the lowlands, the two blondes from… well, I don't know where they were from, but there were _two _of them, the light brunette from the outskirts, the councilman's daughter …"

Loki tried everything to tune out his voice. Fandral's mind was too cluttered with women and wine to be as vulnerable as needed for his normal trick to work. Getting through _his_ thick skull would be as successful as trying to dig through marble with a sewing needle. Loki also tried meditating and counting the bricks on the wall. However, nothing could abate the sound of Fandral's voice and his regale in his conquests.

_If Thor wanted me in Hel, he should have just killed me,_ Loki thought.

"…and I suppose that's it…" Fandral finished, finally growing silent. Loki breathed a sigh of relief. "…for the summer. Do you have any questions – anything you would like to say? Or shall I go back to spring?"

Loki quickly searched his mind for anything - a verbal weapon that could counter the other man's attacks, or that would distract him too much to continue.

"Spring was a particularly busy season…"

"I do – have a question," Loki started, desperate to stop the onslaught of the second round.

"Well, this ought to be good," Fandral said sardonically.

"All of these women – you pride yourself on scoring them as trophies, but they are paltry, little

things. Why not chase after someone a little more – substantial? Someone who may help your rank and standing?"

Fandral could tell by his narrowing eyes that he had decided to play a part in this game. Going against his better judgment, he indulged Loki's question, despite the fact that he hadn't intended on steering the conversation in this direction. "And who would that be?"

"Lady Sif; why is it you never pursued her?" The question was one that had planted itself in his mind a long time ago, though he was not necessarily interested in obtaining the answer in this way or at that very moment. His words had spilled out of his mouth in a moment of desperation, during one of very few instances when his tongue was not well-prepared for conversation.

"Excuse me?" Fandral asked. The question had obviously caught him off guard, but his posture and his unfailing smile indicated that he was not entirely as bothered by the inquiry as Loki had hoped he would be.

"Sif – you seem well-suited and friendly. Why haven't you expressed interest? Certainly, she must be attractive enough for you…" His eyes narrowed further in curiosity as Fandral took a moment to calculate his response.

With a light chuckle, he answered, "When we were younger, I considered embarking on that perilous journey. That thought was abruptly ended when she became promised to Thor."

Loki leaned forward and furrowed his brow intensely. "You speak as though that archaic arrangement still stands."

"As far as I am aware, it does."

He chuckled wryly, "Even though Thor has bedded a mortal?"

"I don't believe that has happened, judging by the way he speaks of her. This is not some off-world fling."

"Yes, you'd be an expert on those, wouldn't you?"

Fandral's cocky smile returned. "At any rate, if it is of Sif's choosing to wait for Thor, she has not long. Human lives are short; perhaps she is willing to remain in waiting until the inevitable."

"I see," said Loki. There was a confidence in his voice that made Fandral uneasy. "So Sif is willing to play the part of the understudy until the main act gets too old for Thor's taste."

Like the sudden feeling of an icy blade against the nape of the neck, Fandral's blood ran cold. Loki enjoyed psychological warfare - and he'd just handed him a brand new weapon to place in his arsenal against both Thor and Sif. He straightened his posture and stepped closer to Loki, looking down from a heightened view.

"On Jotunheim I was ran through with blades of ice. When one of the frost giants descended upon me for the kill, you held him off with your daggers until Volstagg was able to come to my aid. Consider my following advice repayment for your deed." He crossed his arms and leaned down to Loki's level. "If you value your life - the head upon your neck - you _will not_ play your little games with Thor and Sif's relationship. If you _try,_ I don't doubt that Sif will take your life from you, but if she is merciful, I will not be far behind."

Loki's face remained perfectly stoic, as he was not a man who threatened easily. "Those are harsh words," he started in a low voice, mimicking Fandral's earlier tone, "coming from a man who amuses himself with women as a cat would play with its dead prey. Don't act so righteous; we both enjoy our _little games_."

Fandral smirked and stood up straight again. "Yes, I would have difficulty defending myself from your accusations after our recent conversation, but I am not the _monster_ you are, Loki. Do not mistake our qualities as similar in any manner."

The warrior was far too stubborn for Loki's tastes; he would not provide the same kind of "fun" that his other guards had. However, at least for the moment, Fandral's desire for conversation had been sated, and the silence was satisfying enough. In fact, Fandral had seemed to learn his lesson about over-sharing. Although he remained in the prison until the guards changed shifts, he didn't utter another word.

Another day produced yet another visitor and Loki's determination to exact revenge on Thor increased; Volstagg and his protruding belly were on shift. His heartiness had always confused Loki, but never more so than it did that day. He acted as though nothing was out of the ordinary, and his conversation did not contain any bitterness or sarcasm as Fandral's had. He seemed as though he was content not to exacerbate Loki's position. Despite this, Loki was irritated. The man ate constantly, explaining that it "helped his mood." Noxious smells and rude noises followed, and Loki was powerless to do anything but sit there and seethe.

One measure of kindness Volstagg had extended that Fandral hadn't was to offer him a meal - not the typical prison fare, but an actual meal of bread, wine, and fresh meat. For this, Loki had almost considered him a tolerable guest, until it came time to actually remove his mask and loosen his bounds. The portly warrior released his chains so he could move his arms, but the slack he left was far from generous and made it difficult for him. Volstagg also removed his mask, but in his distrust, he increased his guard. Loki ate his meal with the tip of Volstagg's ax pointed at his throat. He dared not sneeze or wipe his mouth, lest the man run him through accidentally. Overall, these were not Loki's preferred circumstances, but although he had always been rather abstemious with food and wine, he was quickly growing tired of chronic hunger and thirst.

After the joys of the first two days, Loki could hardly wait to see what the next would bring. Part of him was almost surprised when he awoke from his restless sleep to find her brown eyes staring back at him from beyond his cell door. He smiled wryly.

"Are you going to be watching me so closely all day?" he asked with a groan as he attempted to stretch his cramped position.

She sighed through her nose and answered in a smart tone, "If I have to."

"... always so suspicious of me," he said in a low voice she could barely hear. "This is going to make things awkward between us when I have to use the facilities."

"I'll deal with that if it becomes a problem."

"I suppose privacy has become a rare luxury." He sardonically chortled.

She shot him a withering look, "You surrendered such privileges when you betrayed your people."

"_My - _people..." he said slowly in a voice so quiet, slow, and bitter that each syllable seemed to drip with venom.

Her frown deepened as she remembered what Odin had called him on the day of his sentencing: _Laufeyson._ She was curious enough regarding the use of the Jotun king's name to ask him, but as the question came to her lips, she pushed it back. He enjoyed lying to her, and she was far too cynical to believe his answer, even if it was the truth.

Instead of pursuing a conversation, she went to sit by the guard's fire. However, there were no Einherjar in the room and the environment was dreadfully silent; he felt free to attempt to satisfy his curiosity and was confident that he would get her to answer.

"Since you seem content to linger down here and do nothing of any importance, maybe you can use your time to explain something." She looked up from the fire. In the warm glow, he could read the distrust and suspicion on her face. "What sin did you commit against Thor, Odin, or Asgard to warrant your service down here?"

She was not in the mood to play. "That's not your concern," she answered shortly.

"Oh? Now I'm _very _curious."

She prodded the fire and added a log. The heat may have only added to the stifling environment of the prison, but the light was welcome in its darkness. "We volunteered." Her voice was stoic; she was unwilling to grant him the gratification of her annoyance.

"And what would you do that for?"

"Thor asked us to," she said impatiently.

"Right," he said incredulously, "so you can care for his poor, suffering, little brother."

"...so you can be carefully watched."

Loki smirked dryly. "I suppose some cautious cynicism is warranted," he started, "but I wish he'd chosen a less - _abrasive_ group. I'd just assume starve on the occasional scraps from the Einherjar."

Sif was already beginning to grow weary of his talkative mood. She had nothing to discuss with him, and unless he chose to yield information about the Chitauri, nothing he said was of any value to her. Plus, it was exhausting to evaluate the truthfulness and motivation behind every word that came from his mouth. "His intention was not to make you comfortable," she said curtly, "and I know your attendants could not care less if you found them annoying."

"Obviously," he said. "The fat one would not stop piling food down his gullet - and he eats very loudly."

Sif replied firmly, "you know his name."

"He seemed to think food would save him from the despair of this dungeon, but honestly, the only variance from the norm was that I was forced to watch it for several hours," he said in disgust. "And then there was the playboy, who insisted on recounting to me the details of his recent sexual escapades. I'm not certain if he did this to bother me, or if he assumed I would see it as a sign of strength."

"Fandral has always been one to brag. Perhaps you should use your talkative mood to say something of value and rob him of the opportunity."

Loki chortled quietly. "Ah yes - I imagine Thor's plans involved me spilling my secrets to my old friends after they'd shown me great mercy."

Sif scoffed. "You love the sound of your own voice, so why not allow it to do some good for once?"

With a contemptuous look, he replied, "There will be a cold day in Muspelheim before I loose my tongue to any of Thor's pets."

Sif rolled her eyes at Loki's disrespect, but she did not respond to it. She wasn't surprised that that Loki would have anticipated and assessed Thor's intention with sending her and the Three down to guard him. "You were right; Thor wanted us to watch you for pity _and_ because he was hoping you would talk - but what you see as suspicion and cynicism is actually love. He wants to forgive you." As she spoke, she pulled out her sword from its sheath and began examining it by the light of the fire for knicks and dents. "Do you really believe he's as heartless as you? Even after all that he's done to save your life?"

Loki did not reply, but Sif was uncertain if his silence meant he was beginning to understand, or if he just did not want to listen. For the moment, the dungeon grew silent again except for the occasional crack of wood in the fireplace. The smell of oil filled the air as she began polishing her blade. He actually found it pleasant, considering the stench that had been filling his senses for days, but he did not admit it.

"Speaking of Fandral..." Loki started casually. She was familiar enough with him to know that this was only an effort to change the topic, but she didn't expect him to broach the subject he would next. "I was trying to quench my curiosity and ask him why he had not pursued _you_ along with the countless of other women he has had. Apparently, he believes that you are still promised to Thor. Of course, this was a surprise to me, since I've witnessed his strong attachment to Earth and a mortal firsthand. Perhaps you can clarify..."

"What has happened or will happen between Thor and I is no concern of yours," she answered sharply.

"Isn't it?" he asked coyly. "The future queen of Asgard and the mother to Thor's successor is of no concern to one of its chief enemies?"

Sif narrowed her eyes. "No," she answered simply and firmly, hoping he would end his questions.

"My apologies," he said. His inflection and tone reeked of insincerity. "I did not realize the topic was still of a sensitive nature to you. You seemed so complacent and accepting of his feelings for the human; I assumed you had moved on."

She stood and turned her back to him, crossing her arms defensively in front of her. "I don't care what decisions he makes for his own life - as long as they are for the good of Asgard and its people. I trust his leadership."

"Oh really?" Loki raised an eyebrow. His heavy chains rattled as he turned as much as he could in his position to look at her more directly. "He sacrificed himself against the Destroyer Armor, even though he'd known those people for merely a week or so. Through his death, he was content to abandon Asgard into my hands, despite his discovery of my deception."

"His sacrifice did _not_ equal abandonment," she argued passionately. "He charged the Three and I with taking Asgard back. We would have..."

"And if you _would_ have bested me, Laufey would have successfully assassinated Odin," he interrupted, "leaving Asgard with no king worthy of its throne. Perhaps I'm ignorant, but I fail to see how in his carelessness, he was acting 'for the good of Asgard.' He willingly traded the throne and all of his responsibilities for the life of _one - mortal - woman._"

Sif scoffed and tried to argue. "He was doing what he thought was best at the time."

"...what was best for Earth and what was best for _her_," he added.

She opened her mouth, but no words would come to her lips. She had admired Thor's works on Earth, even more so when they resulted in permanent changes to his life when he returned. It was difficult, however, for her to ignore the small part of her that happened to agree with Loki's current point: Thor had given up hope that his banishment would end, and had abandoned Asgard in attempt to save a small Midgardian settlement. Her own injured pride and envy toward the mortal woman who monopolized his affections, and her love and friendship for Thor had interfered with her ability to discern this. She could not hide her dismay as she came to this realization.

Loki's smile grew. In the firelight, she could just make out the line of his smirk and his examining stare. Her face hardened, her lips set in a deep frown, and her own focus on him did not waiver. "We are done with this discussion."

They seemed to be challenging each other as their intense stares met. He dropped his eyes first. "As you wish, Lady Sif."

Neither of them said much to each other once their chat regarding Thor was finished. In fact, Loki's silence had only convinced Sif that she had lost a kind of battle. She was ashamed that she had allowed herself to be so easily swayed by his argument, but it didn't change her new perception of the events on Earth, or the betrayal she suddenly felt.

Loki was surprised that the eternally loyal Sif had been so effortlessly influenced. What he'd said to her was no deception, but it did serve to muddle the image of Thor's integrity, and he had always assumed that anything of this nature would be automatically rejected by the person who was the most faithful to Thor in all of Yggdrasil; it was an interesting development.

Loki's thoughts diverged on a tangent as they sat in stoic silence. He hadn't thought of Sif as a good candidate for his experiment into the subconscious minds of others. She was too stubborn, too set in her ways, and her battle instincts were too keen. He would never get through, and if he did, she would most likely detect him. But he wondered if these weren't qualities that would actually make her vulnerable. Her devotion to Thor made her predictable, and her intense desire to be strong ironically created its own insecurities and weaknesses. If he could sneak past the guard of her subconscious, he could use these elements to his advantage.

Their familiarity with each other might also serve to benefit him. Loki may not have been one of her close friends, but he'd spent a long time watching her. He knew many of her idiosyncrasies, her habits, and many of these the thought processes she used when she was attempting to solve a problem. He would be much better equipped to avoid the alarms her mind would have in place. He also knew her personality, weaknesses, and strengths. This would only give him more ammunition with which to work. The fact that she was somewhat used to his presence the games he enjoyed playing with others would also help lower his risk. A person who was not familiar with him may identify his intrusion immediately. Sif, however, may see it as a mere sign that he had affected her on some level, and dismiss it like a bad dream.

While other thoughts and theories flittered through his mind, she waited in the dungeon. She wouldn't leave until a fresh patrol took their station in front of his cell. He had time. He closed his eyes and slowed his breathing, feeling his energy struggle to expand beyond the enchantments surrounding his prison. Unlike the paranoid guards who jumped at shadows and shrunk at his sneering looks, her mind was not an impassible wall of stone. Whether it was due to their history with one another or if it was because she was distracted by her cold revelation about Thor, he couldn't tell, but there was very little resistance to his intrusion.

He contracted his diaphragm and released a sharp breath through his nose, pushing himself even further. The resistance gave, not much, but it was progress. He opened his eyes, unwilling to take the risk of continuing at that moment, for as he had pressed against her mind, she had turned sharply to look towards him. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion, but she said nothing. She did, however, wrap her arms around her stomach, as though she had somehow felt a chill in that hot, stifling prison. He had his confirmation.

He ignored her stare and leaned his head back as though he would sleep, but this wasn't his aim. She could hear his steady breathing and believed, for a moment, that she had been entertaining rumor and an overactive imagination. She nearly laughed at herself, but the sensation appeared again, a coldness up the back of her neck that sent chills throughout her entire body. Ice invaded her veins, and although it should have brought relief in the hot prison, it caused her to shudder.

Loki released a deep breath and suddenly, he was there. A small vulnerability in the guard of her mind had cracked, revealing an opening. It was a small success, but it was further than he'd gotten before. Just as he tried to move further into her higher mind, the door to the dungeon opened; his fresh patrol had arrived for their shift. The presence of the others changed something about her frame of thought; he lost his hold.

The loss was of no great matter to him, as he was content to try again soon. Sif seemed relieved when the sensation left her, but at the same time, her posture changed, and her face straightened and hardened. The mask she often wore had returned, which made Loki suddenly curious about who she was when it wasn't present, and whether or not he'd ever seen that version of her before.

"Lady Sif," one of the Einherjar greeted as they both bowed slightly to her.

She bowed in return, but her gaze was set towards Loki. As he watched her from beneath his brow, her frown deepened. Her eyes filled with uncertainty and suspicion. Shaking the eerie sensation from her mind, she left.


	4. Chapter 4: Broken Bonds

A matter of days had passed under the skies of Asgard before Sif heard word from Thor or shared reports of their prisoner. He sent a guard with a note, summoning her to the palace late at night, during a time when the halls had fallen silent as the entire realm slept, save for a few Einherjar and the ever-watchful eyes of Heimdall. It seemed strange to her to keep their meeting so secretive, but much of what Thor did was questioned by his father and frowned on by the elders; she could sympathize with his desire to remain quiet and hidden from judgment.

He smiled when he saw her walk in and her heart lightly jumped at his expressive greeting. He had a way of making her feel welcome with his soft smile and bright eyes, even without an exchange of words. It made her feel like a child inside, but it also made her feel valued and desired.

"You called?" her voice echoed in the empty hall; he looked hesitant to match her volume.

As he leaned down to her ear, the bristly hairs on his chin tickled her cheek and neck. She resisted leaning into it. "Would you meet me in my quarters? I will be there momentarily."

The thought occurred to her that she_ should_ feel bothered by the request. Why would he summon her to the palace only to have her leave and move to his chambers? His living quarters were only a small toss of the mighty Mjolnir for him, but it was quite a walk for those without powers of flight, and her horse was already stabled at the palace entrance. She nodded in agreement, without a sound of protest. Perhaps summoning her to the wrong location was an effort to disguise their appointment.

She was relieved to find that he had left his chambers unlocked and unguarded so she didn't have to explain her late presence to anyone. The light scent of vanilla and cedar greeted her at the door. Firelight illuminated the red of his curtains and sheets, making them appear to glow against the dark color of his walls, and the gold elements around the room sparkled in reflection of its flame. His quarters were exactly the way she had remembered from spending the occasional late night there in her youth.

The familiarity of the room invited the temptation to reminisce, even though she had not allowed herself to experience the memories evoked by that space in a long time. She ran her hands over the soft, red blanket on his bed; this had certain nostalgia to it as well and her lips curled upward as she resisted the particular images the simple cloth brought to mind. She moved on and turned her sight towards his dresser. The shine of a small crystal case caught her eye. Resting on the corner was the small token he had once bestowed upon her - a symbol of his promise and Odin's approval. It was just a modest medallion with a jeweled center that hung from a silver chain. In Asgardian terms, it was an inconspicuous piece that hardly reflected the wearer's true station. However, as she felt the weight of the metal and its coolness on her fingertips, she wanted nothing more than to put it on again.

The door to his quarters opened and she quickly pulled her hand away, though she knew he would have noticed what had drawn her attention.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, choosing to let that particular matter be. "I am sorry I asked you to move our meeting."

"It's alright," she responded, "I remembered my way here."

He smiled softly, relieved she had silently agreed not to discuss the token. "I must also apologize for my secrecy. I've already heard rumors and theories regarding my intentions with the presence of the warriors in the dungeons."

Sif nodded. "Yes, I have heard them as well."

"Not much is hidden from the gossiping mouths of Asgard. Do you have any idea who may be spreading this information?"

"No, but it may be the elders; they often undermine you publically."

Thor crossed his arms and sighed. "I am sorry that Odin gave them any semblance of authority. They enjoy tearing me apart because they know I am likely to disband them when I have earned the throne; the more they work against me, the more likely this is true. It is a stalemate," he said. "I bitterly regret the day they act prematurely without the right information."

Sif nodded. "It is hoped Odin will see them in their true light before that happens - if he hasn't already."

Thor sat down on a chest in front of his bed, leaning back against the footboard behind him. "Asgard calls for Loki's head. The rumors I have heard only address the pity I've taken on him. They have ignored the fact that I've been sending you down on recognizance."

"Perhaps," Sif began, pausing shortly, "they believe recognizance is hopeless. In a manner of speaking, I do."

Thor leaned forward questioningly. "In what 'manner?' Loki's information on the Chitauri is essential to both Earth and Asgard's protection."

"I understand as long as hope for his redemption lives, there is also hope that he will volunteer his secrets, but day-by-day, that hope diminishes. I can see it in his eyes - and I believe you know as well as I do that he will not deliver his information accidentally, voluntarily, or by force. His control over his tongue has always been remarkable."

"You may be right," Thor said after some silence, "but I am not prepared to acquiesce to his stubbornness yet. The moment I do, his life becomes forfeit."

"I appreciate your feelings on the matter, but as long as you are content to pardon an undeserving man, I would expect your plan to garner further criticism."

He tilted his head slightly. "I am _not _pardoning an undeserving man - I am showing mercy to my _brother_ and working for the betterment of Asgard's protection. I can see why the council and Earth wouldn't understand, but I am amazed that _you_ wouldn't see this. It is not easy to turn one's back on one's kin."

Thor immediately began to feel a shade of guilt for his adamancy. She had healed Loki's back knowing that the pain of that sentence would weigh on Thor's shoulders. Her understanding of the situation was evidenced by her actions and her continued loyalty. She hadn't deserved the tone he'd taken.

Sif folded her arms in front of her and didn't reply for a moment. There were many areas in which she disagreed with Thor, a number of which had increased recently. She did not feel, however, that she had the right to argue with him about Loki. His pain was still too raw. Still, the circumstances of Loki's betrayal were too murky for her comfort, and her loyalty to Thor didn't mean that she was out of bounds to request clarification when his decisions were questionable.

"Is he - your kin?" she asked suddenly. Thor looked at her in confusion. "Odin called him 'Laufeyson' at the trial - and in my care, he made some odd remark under his breath."

"What are you implying, Sif?"

"He's always been so different than you in every way. I thought..." She bit her lip and pulled her eyes from his. "Never mind. It was not clever of me to allow one comment to cause such controversy in my own mind."

Thor's eyes dropped to the floor. During his discussion with the warriors, he had surmised that telling them of Loki's true heritage would only increase their bloodlust - and he needed _someone _to respect his decision to let him live. He wagered Sif would be affected the worst by this revelation, considering their history and the depth of Loki's treachery. "Odin's proclamation was symbolic," he lied. "Loki's betrayal against Asgard culminated in his abandonment of this world into the hands of the Jotuns. Odin was, in heart, handing Loki over to the Jotuns in retribution."

"He disowned him?" she asked with some surprise.

"In a manner of speaking," Thor said, hoping she wouldn't see past his outright lie. "Odin has taken distance from everything regarding Loki until his own pain ebbs. He is completely in my charge."

Once again, the pair was silent for a long moment. Something in Thor's story didn't equate well to the other elements of the situation. It made sense that Odin would take such a measure against Loki, but why did he feel the need to use covert language and symbolism? Odin was typically unapologetically direct with such issues. Her instinct told her that Thor had not disclosed everything, but she didn't inquire further.

"Has Loki said anything else to you?" his question snapped her out of her thoughts unexpectedly.

"Excuse me?"

"The reason I wanted to discuss this matter with you in private is because of what I've heard from the captain of the Einherjar. One of his subordinates reported that you looked distressed - nervous, even - when he had come to relieve you."

"What?" she said incredulously, even though what he spoke was the truth. "No, I was - I was fine. Loki has a way with words that can make one feel uncomfortable. He knows all of our weak points and - he got under my skin. From what I understand, he has done the same to Fandral."

"Do you mind if I ask what he said that diminished your fortitude?"

She shook her head, hesitant to admit the truth. The strength of a warrior had more to do than their physical body; she felt her cheeks begin to burn with embarrassment over the situation. "He plays on one's doubts and insecurities. I shouldn't have let him affect me as he did. I assure you it won't happen again"

"This isn't a performance issue, Sif. I was concerned about you," he explained. He stood up and walked closer to her. "Is that all?"

"He has gained a small amount of color and weight back. Other than that, I have nothing to report."

"No, I meant - is that all that he did to you?"

Sif did not answer his question directly. The truth was more than a little humiliating; it preyed on her security in her position and her devotion to her prince. Previously, she had been content to remain loyal to Thor's leadership and set her personal feelings regarding their history aside. Loki made her doubt this in the worst way possible - simply by emphasizing the truth around Thor's actions on Earth and the fact he had sacrificed himself for the sake of a mortal. She had spent the last couple of days reconciling Thor's actions in New Mexico with her loyalty to him, but there was doubt in her mind that she would ever fully understand his reasoning.

When Sif didn't respond, Thor continued, "I've said this before, but I cannot and will not force anyone to take this duty. If you wish to discontinue, I shall think no less of you."

"Loki is nothing I cannot handle," she said firmly. Out of reflex, she looked back towards the necklace.

Thor didn't miss this brief glance, or its meaning. He had already connected the report of her hesitation in the prison with Loki's usual games; his gift to her in the days of their union supplied the missing piece to this mystery. "Is _that_ the injury on which he preyed?"

Sif turned around so he couldn't see her face. She confirmed his suspicions with her silence. "He only asked me a question - but I haven't thought of those times in a while, and I suppose it put it to mind." She spoke uneasily, but continued. "I still remember the day you gave this to me."

Thor's face began to turn red in discomfort. "And I remember the day you gave it _back_," he said. His voice was soft, but he could not hide the bitterness in his tone, or the rebuke to her assertion.

"For safekeeping..." she added argumentatively.

He ran his hand through his hair and laughed wryly. "Loki is still a master of manipulation. Just one question and he..."

"Shall we bury the issue for a few more centuries, then?" she asked.

He took a deep breath, but his impatience swelled. "You explicitly stated it was choking you. How was I supposed to interpret that?"

"It _was,_" she answered. "The day it was given to me, your father was discussing when it would be appropriate to have children as my mother measured the palace for curtains. I was stifled - less than a year out of the academy and every aspect of my life was being planned for me. None of it - except my marriage to you, was anything I wanted for myself."

"That _is_ part of the role; you were aware of this."

"I was aware," she answered, "but I was immature and unprepared for the reality of it. Are you still angry with me?"

He crossed his arms. She could see his expression in the mirror and the uncertainty in his azure depths. "Of course not," he answered, "but your timing - on the precipice of war with an unknown enemy; Loki's involvement in the destruction on Earth; Jane... I cannot guess what other reason you would have for addressing this now. This reeks of Loki."

Sif stiffened and abruptly turned towards him. Her eyes narrowed sharply and her lips curled into a frown. "You give Loki too much credit, and me, too little," she argued. "And when, pray tell, would have been a better time? When you were in the midst of intensive training for your coronation? While you were jumping woman to woman simply because I told you I wasn't ready for marriage? While you were banished to Earth?"

Several arguments came to his mind, including the fact that the list of suitors she had entertained during this time was also very lengthy, and that they had spent quite a while apart for the purposes of her own training. However, he knew these would only assign blame and worsen the argument, and so he chose, instead, to reframe his words. "I'm not capable of giving you what I believe you seek. What would you have me do, then?" he asked, his voice rough with emotion and unspent anger.

She bit her lip, desperately trying to hide her indignation. "Does the promise still stand?"

"Officially, yes. It was broken in private, so the arrangement intact," he paused and furrowed his brow. "Do you intend to hold me to it?"

"What needs to be done to break it?"

His expression softened as guilt regarding his previous accusation welled in his stomach. "You need only declare it to Odin."

"Then he shall have my letter soon," she said. Her face was partially hidden from his view. She made her way past him to the door before her embarrassment deepened and she said something else she would regret.

"Sif..." he started. She halted. "I am sorry - for thinking you weak against Loki's influence - and I'm sorry that things turned out this way. I sincerely hope these circumstances don't diminish our friendship."

She lowered her shoulders; her expression softened to one of sadness as her anger left her. She nodded her acknowledgment, and though she smiled subtly, made no effort to reply.

Sif left a very confused and distraught Thor behind in his quarters that night. He had not called her there to discuss their betrothal, an agreement that had unofficially ended _many _years before, but had summoned her to check in on her welfare as a friend and to discuss his brother. She had not planned on addressing that particular subject, but now that she had, she regretted it, and her cheeks burned hot with embarrassment.

She had gambled at the wrong time, while knowing that his heart belonged to another. To make matters worse, she had cornered them both, creating a situation where the subject could not be avoided. There were things that had gone unexpressed for years that should have remained buried in time. Instead, she forced the issue, and created a barrier in their friendship that had never been there before, despite the turbulent nature of their relationship.

Her heart was troubled when she returned to her quarters. She felt wearied by the confrontation, the feeling worsened by the very late hour. She stripped of her clothes and skipped much of her nightly routine, choosing the comfort of her bed over freshly-brushed hair and moisturizer. Sleep claimed her quickly and deeply; the moment her mind began to calm, she started to dream.

* * *

Thor's vigilance and the warriors' supervision had ensured the Einherjar were much more dependable than they had been in their guard of the prison. The fact that Loki had stopped utilizing what illusion spells he could muster to unnerve them for the purposes of his own entertainment had also ameliorated his circumstances. Additionally, he had ceased his efforts to infiltrate their subconscious; there was only one target in his sights now, and much of his focus and energy was directed towards her.

Due the increased regularity of his guard's shifts, he was able to develop a sense of the time and time's passing. At the very least, he could tell the general times of day, and although his internal clock was inaccurate without being able to see the sky, it came close enough for his satisfaction. He figured his supper to be around dusk. The guards would change shifts three to four hours afterward. On that particular evening, it meant counting at least four hours after the Einherjar changed shifts to reach a window of midnight to three in the morning. This was a large margin of error, but he knew it would land during a time when she would most likely be at rest.

Confident that his math was correct, Loki leaned back against the wall of his cell and dropped his head to his chest as he began his normal process. He slowed his breathing and relaxed his muscles. As his heart rate dropped, he expanded himself. With much practice and with a clear destination, he was able to reach his target. However, this hadn't been difficult to master; he knew his way to her chambers well enough due to some discreet visits during a more curious point in his life.

As his consciousness drove through space and into her thoughts, he began to see vague, shapeless images and shadows. The matrices between her conscious and subconscious, at first, presented a mesh of random memories, mostly of faces and specific events. After a moment, these began to began to focus into the form of a dream as she entered her deepest level of sleep.

The environment came into a clear view first. He found himself standing in her quarters, though the space was shrouded in darkness and seemed much larger than it was in reality. A single light on her dresser illuminated the area. She sat in front of her dresser on a small stool, gazing at her own reflection as she brushed her long hair.

Although that cycle of sleep often did not last long, Loki stood back in the distance, watching and allowing himself to enjoy her vision for small moment before he acted. He mentally chided himself for allowing her to distract him, but it had been a long time since he had enjoyed her beauty for what it was. The desire he had held for her in his youth had cooled over time for various reasons, the largest of which was her engagement to Thor. Despite the fact that the prince had touched and tasted all she had to offer, it hadn't completely decimated the appreciation Loki once felt for her when they were children.

He smiled, noticing the braids in her hair that she had worn throughout her school years. It was interesting to him that the projection of herself within her dream would include that specific element from her youth, but it did _not _include the golden hair she had been so heartbroken to lose. Instead, the image her mind had constructed of herself owned the jet black hair of her elder years.

A twisted sense of pleasure rose in his chest. He had never been allowed to forget his actions on the day he had lashed out at her, costing her the blonde locks that had won her the attention of men throughout several realms. Although he had made an attempt to make it up to her, his selfishness and impatience had gotten the better of him. He rarely regretted his actions and decisions, even when they were unsuccessful at furthering his goals, but he wasn't particularly proud of what he had done to her. It brought him a kind of relief to see that her perception of herself included her dark hair, as it meant that she accepted it as a part of who she was. Maybe a small part of her actually preferred it.

She stopped combing and placed the horsehair brush on her lap. For a moment, he wondered if she had reached the end of her sleep cycle, but instead of the dream fading into nothing, it cleared and became more vibrant. From his distance, he could see a silver light gleaming from her hand. He couldn't determine what it was, but he could make out the silver chain wrapped around her fingers. Curiosity got the better of him and he stepped forward to improve his view. Though he was silent in his movement, she looked up in alarm. She had sensed his presence. Loki cursed and stepped back into the shadows. If she learned of his intrusion, it would ruin this attempt and make future ones far more difficult.

After a moment, her posture relaxed and she returned her attention to the item in her hand. Disappointment swept over him. He couldn't get closer without her detection and progress with his plan was impossible unless he was nearer to her. Her figure represented the center, and his final barrier.

The necklace in her hand shined as she hung it by its chain in the air in order to inspect the center jewel. It was her betrothal necklace, the token Thor had given her when they were promised to each other in front of king and council. An idea slithered its way into Loki's mind. Sneaking around her subconscious would not work for long; her instincts had been sharpened by battle and were too keen to fail in detecting him. Perhaps a disguise would be a better method for concealing himself.

Step by cautious step, he slowly emerged from the shadows. However, instead of his black, stringy hair, what she saw was blonde and soft; instead of green robes, she saw the iconic red cape of Thor; and instead of the mischievousness and malice contained in Loki's grin, she saw the warm and jovial smile of the man she loved. Her smile broadened and simultaneously, the light in her chambers became brighter.

Loki's disguise had worked. She hadn't shown a hint of suspicion or tentativeness as she welcomed him, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. Loki hesitated, his intentions interrupted by the warmth and softness of her form against his. She pulled away momentarily, taking one small moment to examine his eyes, his face, and his lips as her hand moved to his cheek. With another smile, she pressed her lips to his.

He couldn't "feel" her in the truest sense of the word, but his mind constructed elements in his perception similar to those her dream conveyed to her. The softness of her mouth, the taste of her skin - these components were a mixture of his memories of her and her mental projection of herself. As his hands travelled around her waist, this fact was forgotten; logic was drowned in this sweet distraction. He tightened his embrace as he nearly abandoned his objective.

After a long moment of pleasurable contact, she pulled away, completely breathless and flushed in her cheeks. "Thor..." she whispered in a throaty tone.

At the sound of his brother's name, his expression dropped slightly, but imperceptibly. He reached up and cupped her cheek, tenderly running his thumb across her jaw line, and touching her smooth, pink lips. His sense returned. "Would you surrender a part of yourself - if I told you it would lead to a greater good?"

She smiled. "Of course."

Loki kept himself from scoffing audibly. Such a strong creature, she was; it was almost disappointing to him to learn that she would so easily submit to Thor's whims.

"But I feel as though I have already given much of myself to you. What more do you need?" she said with a soft laugh as she leaned in to kiss him again.

He gently pushed her away so he could maintain eye contact. "Indeed, you have," he said, trying very hard not to sound bitter or denigrate her response, "but for the good of Asgard, I need just a _little_ more."

She moaned and locked her eyes on his, content to give him anything he asked for, but hoping he would request something in particular. "Then take all of me."

He smirked viciously, forgetting that such mannerisms were not at all characteristic of Thor. He ran his fingers over the straps of the golden gown she wore as his eyes travelled from her lips, down to her collar bone, and followed the flowing material as it hugged her body. "A very tempting offer, but it's not necessary," he said in a deep voice, fighting the temptation to continue his illusion, though he didn't think he could stand touching, kissing, and taking her while she saw only the face of his brother.

She took his hand in hers and held it to her chest. "Tell me what you want."

"Close your eyes," he ordered.

She did as requested. He turned her so she was facing her mirror and her back was to him. Her dark hair cascaded down her back in a river of ebony. He combed his fingers through the soft strands, reminding himself that this was merely a facsimile. No matter what signals his mind sent him, it wasn't the true feel or smell of Sif's real hair. These thoughts reminded him of his objective. He gently moved his hand up the back of her neck, lightly grabbing the back of her skull as he prepared to take over her body.

She gasped and her face contorted in pain. "Thor? What are you...? "As soon as the words left her lips, she opened her eyes. The muscles on her neck tensed, and she gasped loudly. As Loki looked up to assess what had gone wrong, he saw only the image of his true appearance reflecting back in the mirror. The illusion had vanished as soon as her mind had worked through it.

"Loki..." she said in surprise and dismay.

He panicked momentarily, thinking she would lash out against him, or that the connection would be abruptly severed. However, Sif did not react the way he feared she would. Her expression remained one of shock, but she did not move from beneath his grasp.

"Interesting," he said curiously, "you saw through my disguise much more quickly than I believed you would."

"What are you doing here?" Her disorientation was evident in her eyes. The mirage around them began fading as her mind slowly began to recognize the situation as only a vision. Concurrently, it caused her great confusion.

"Just visiting," he said wryly. Loki felt a light pull, recognizing the sensation as what would happen when the person began to reject his presence.

She turned around to face him, her eyes filled with puzzlement. "Where is Thor?"

He smiled and placed his cool hand on her neck, running his thumb very lightly over her bottom lip. It was a moment of blatant self-indulgence, he knew, but she would think it only a dream and a figment of her own imagination. She wrinkled her brow and looked perturbed as though the motion bothered her, but she did not pull away from his touch. He mustered the most sympathetic expression he could and coyly replied, "it has only ever been me."

The pull against him became stronger. "No, he..." she started, trailing off as she wondered, in her dreamful haze, if it was actually true and if she remembered Thor leaving the room or Loki entering.

"Is your hate for me so strong?"

The pull intensified once again, but she did not verbally respond. He would be pushed out very soon; he could feel the intrusion of her conscious thought. Before he would leave, he indulged himself one more time. Slowly, he closed the distance between them, and leaned down. His nose brushed against her cheek, but just when he could feel the stirrings of her breath against his mouth, he was abruptly pulled back. The dream was over.

* * *

Sif awoke with a gasp, sitting up sharply from her bed. Her night gown was soaked through, and beads of sweat rolled down her face. Her dream had been mild in comparison to the nightmares and memories of battle she often experienced while she was asleep, but it had a different kind of intensity to it. She felt as though she'd been through a war of a different sort against herself - or something unlike any enemy she'd ever faced before.

As her memory began to fill in images from the dream, she touched her hand to her lips. Anger suddenly welled up inside of her, though she wasn't sure of whom it was directed towards - herself for imagining such a strange scenario, or Thor, as her argument with him was most likely the cause of her disturbing vision. Her stomach turned; the memory of nearly kissing Asgard's Betrayer was not one she cared to repeat in another dream. Resigning herself to a near-sleepless night, she rose to take a bath and wash the image from her mind.

* * *

Loki opened his eyes slowly. Both a failure and a victory, he wasn't sure of what to think of his latest attempt. He hadn't accomplished anything. In fact, there was a possibility he had only succeeded in _increasing_ the guard around her subconscious. He also lost control of his own faculties - something that didn't happen to him often, and _never_ so pleasantly.

He chided himself for indulging in the circumstances of her dream. It had been a long time since he'd felt the touch of a woman, or tasted the sweetness of another's lips on his. Granted, nothing that had occurred in her vision was real, but it was more than he had ever imagined he would share with Thor's most loyal subject, friend, and betrothed. Unknowingly, she had easily seduced him away from his goal.

Conversely, the distraction had not been entirely detrimental to his experiment. He now knew the approximate amount of time before her mind worked through his plot. Now that he had appeared to her in one dream, he also felt confident he could reappear without having to use Thor's image as a disguise. In theory, she would accept him as merely a figment of a reoccurring dream. Perhaps their connection would be even stronger in the future because of this factor.

Loki put the dream out of him mind and began planning out the details of what would happen once his efforts were successful. Having the possessed Sif free him first may be a bit of a risk if there were Einherjar or one of his special attendants present, particularly since it would take a while for him to make the transition from her mind back to his own body. However, Sif's procurement of the Tesseract portal device would also surely raise alarms prematurely.

It would be best for her to obtain the artifact he had promised his benefactor first and have her deliver it to him when she freed him. This would make him nearly invincible during his run for the Tesseract, and since Asgard was under the impression they had defeated him, their vault lacked sufficient guard. Their false sense of victory secured his plan, as long as he still owned the element of surprise.

Loki smiled. He loved it when one of his plans began to come to its fruition - and this one had been slowly maturing for a long time. Soon, his benefactor would have his wish, and as his reward, Loki would finally rule Asgard.

* * *

The sound of horseshoes on pavement echoed dramatically off the high walls of the structures on the palace grounds and the sunshine was warm on the back of her neck. However, the pleasant day went unnoticed as her mind was monopolized with memories from her youth - and from her short spell as Thor's intended and the future queen of Asgard. The first time he kissed her; the first time he touched her, as no man had before; the moment he had suggested they formally court; these memories had haunted her since their argument on the night before, and plagued her as she rode back to Thor's chambers to deliver her official abdication of her betrothal.

Sif felt foolish for allowing Loki's slimy words to work on her as they had, foolish for broaching such an old and sore subject, and foolish for allowing herself to regress to an emotional state in such a small length of time. She felt as though every ounce of respect and honor she had built up in his eyes had been compromised by one poorly-worded and poorly-timed argument she had no place raising to begin with. She couldn't comprehend what it would take to make this up to him, or what she would have to do to reestablish his perception of her strength and character.

When she arrived at his quarters, she tied her horse and stood at the threshold of his door. She did not knock, and it became increasingly difficult to do so the longer she stood there. The paper envelope crunched in her hand as she clenched her fists in frustration. Inside was a letter to Odin, in which she released his son from his promise of marriage. It had been a difficult letter to write, particularly as she knew that Odin and Frigga both approved of her as a warrior and as Thor's choice. Her tumultuous relationship with him had never spoiled their warm reception of her within the palace walls. However, she acknowledged that it was her fault the letter had been difficult; it should have been written a long time ago, but she had put it off hoping for a change in their circumstances.

As she hit the wood of his door with her fist, she vowed that she would show none of her insecurities or her tentativeness that day. She would not sweeten Loki's small victory. It was hoped that Thor would not think too much of the previous night, and that he would consider it a fluke and an abnormal moment.

The door opened abruptly with a loud creak, causing her to jump lightly. She cursed herself for being startled. This was not the manner in which she wanted the conversation to begin.

"Sif," he greeted in surprise. "I didn't expect..."

"I've prepared my letter to Odin. I believe it will sufficiently serve its purpose," she spoke in an interruption, handing him the now creased envelope that held her official seal.

He smiled softly. "I have no doubts. Thank you - for this."

She nodded and began to turn away.

"Sif, wait..."

She looked back to see him outwardly struggling with finding the words to say. "Regarding our conversation..." he started, trailing off.

"There is nothing more to say," she said firmly. For a moment, Thor believed her anger was still raw, but she continued and disproved his presuppositions. "I behaved like a love-scorn teenager last night, and I am sorry. It was utterly foolish of me to allow Loki to arouse my old insecurities and you did not deserve to be the target of that anger."

Thor dropped his shoulders and sighed in relief. "We were _both_ foolish. We should have cleared this matter long ago instead of attempting to bury it in the past. It has only festered during these years of silence and I can hardly blame Loki for utilizing it as a foothold against us."

"I agree," Sif said. Her tone had lost some of its weight, and for that, Thor was grateful. "I never should have thought ill of you for taking advantage of your eligibility after I had returned your token. I've had some of my own suitors since that time and it was hypocritical of me to expect you to remain unattached."

"Our timing was never quite right, was it?" he asked with a sad smile.

Her lips twitched. It was the truth, though she did not want to resume the argument by pointing out the fact that he would have won if he had even _tried_ to challenge any of her suitors. "No. That was a large part of it, I suppose."

Heavy silence spread between them, but as the memories surrounding some of their history resurfaced in his mind, Thor chuckled and began, "To be honest, some of those women were wooed and entertained only as an effort to foster jealousy while you were focused on your training. I was _trying _to get your attention, but you were too proud and strong to admit when I had it."

"_Really?_" she asked in genuine surprise. A confident smile graced her features. "Exactly which ones were those?"

Thor chortled dryly, enjoying the return of her smile, though he knew her inquiry courted trouble. "I feel I can only endanger myself further by answering that question," he joked.

She laughed. "Depending on your answer, you are most likely correct. However, I may grant you mercy since you were willing to admit it."

He remained silent, allowing both of them to enjoy the moment. "We're friends again, then?" he asked after some pause.

"We've always been friends. That will not change easily - and certainly not over one of Loki's schemes or matters of the past."

"Then," he started, phrasing his next words carefully, "do I have your approval to continue seeing Jane Foster of Midgard if the circumstances allow?"

She furrowed her brow, dropping her smile. "Is my approval so necessary for your happiness?"

He shook his head. "Not necessary, but important. I will respect your opinion, as you often know what is best for Asgard, and what is best for me."

She sighed and lowered her eyes to the ground, crossing her arms in front of her as she fought herself over the possible variations in her response. "I'm at a loss as to why you would pursue a relationship that will not last. She is a mortal - stubborn and short-lived, from a world that teaches its people never to believe in anything beyond themselves and what they can immediately see and touch. They are a volatile and violent race bent on destroying themselves, and they have, until recently, dismissed the idea that there is more to this universe than their realm. In this sense, they are selfish and vain, and I do not wish to see Asgard diminished through an alliance with them."

Thor frowned. He _had_ asked for her opinion, but did not expect one so thoroughly negative. He prepared several arguments in his mind, but Sif was not finished.

"That being said, from what I've seen of her, she is quite courageous and intelligent, and I owe her much for giving you aid while you were stranded there. You have only known her a short time, but she seems to be an extraordinary human - one worthy of getting to know better."

"Thank you," he said with a soft smile. That was much of an approval as he was going to obtain considering the obstacles he faced within his relationship with Jane.

She nodded in acknowledgement. "It would be a shame if your visits to Earth were limited to crises. Have you thought of a return visit?"

"Yes," he said. "In fact, now that the Tesseract has been returned, I suppose it will be much easier to travel there, as we will not need to gather the dark energy for the trip in the future."

"So circumstances _will_ allow..." she said, referring to his earlier statement.

"Potentially. I don't believe it would be prudent to leave Asgard on a personal holiday while things are so unsettled here. If Loki would provide some enlightenment regarding the Chitauri and their commander, maybe the opportunity would present itself, but for now, I will remain here."

She did not voice it, but she was grateful to hear him reaffirm his dedication to Asgard in his words. Her convictions regarding Thor's acts on Earth seemed almost comical now. She was ashamed to believe he had done any wrong.

"Are you feeling well?" Thor suddenly asked.

She knew why the he was inquiring. As she had passed the mirror that morning, she had seen it too, the swelling under her eyes as well as shadows that had not been there the day before. "I'm fine. I had some disturbing dreams last night. I'm afraid much of my rest was stolen."

"Were they anything you wish to discuss?"

She shook her head. The images from her vision had caused her great distress the night before, but as the morning progressed, they had faded into light and haze. "It's silly, really," she said dismissively. "Loki had disguised himself as you - and I failed to recognize his trick, at least - as quickly as I should have."

"And once you knew..?"

She could hardly say the words and suddenly wished she hadn't told him anything about the dream itself. The next part was certainly the most absurd element of any dream she'd ever had. "I almost ki..." she cut herself off. She could not bring herself to say it, regardless of whether or not it was only a silly nightmare. "...killed him."

"Interesting," Thor started. "Our dreams can be power interpretations of our waking life. Have you considered if your mind was trying to warn you about him? He is crafty - give him an inch of freedom and he will somehow win much more."

Sif laughed lightly. Thor looked at her questioningly. "I don't think this dream had any basis in reality - but I will keep your advice in mind." She stepped over to her horse and untied it before mounting its back.

He gingerly rubbed her horse's nose and was rewarded with a pleased _huff_ from the animal. "Sif, the offer from last night still stands. If you feel the position in the dungeon has compromised you in any way, you need only to say something. I will not take it to count against you."

"Thank you, Thor, but I'm fine," she said confidently. "I will talk to you if I have discovered more information from Loki."

She gave her horse a light tap on its hindquarters and rode off. Thor looked down at the envelope she had given him and her seal over its flap. She continued to swear to him that she was alright. Her behavior and appearance, however, said differently. Part of him hoped, but doubted, she was telling the complete truth.

* * *

Time slowed as a ball of silver whistled through the air by her ear. The clash of metal resounded across the nearly empty, grassy field on which she fought. Her sword blocked her enemy's strike, but she saw, in her peripheral vision, the blade of his partner swing towards her. The end of his blade made contact against the edge of her armor, but despite her protection, she could feel the sting of an open wound on her hip. By chance, he landed his blade in the small gap between her cuirass and her lower body armor.

He swung again nearer her head, oblivious of the fact he had wounded her. She ducked, the end of her dark hair brushing the sharpened edge as it missed the rest of her by mere centimeters. Her legs moved quickly as she spun around him to his blind spot, dealing a blow to the back of his knees before he could move. He fell to the ground.

The third, his less than subtle conspirator, came behind her with a yell and a swing of his heavy ax. She lifted her blade above her, blocking the strong blow from landing. Her arms shook from effort as she fought his downward inertia and stood. She turned in her spot, moving her sword in a circle so that is grabbed the edge of the ax and she was able to twist it out of his hands. He was disarmed.

As he stood and examined his fallen weapon, he grinned sheepishly. "I should have seen that coming."

"Yes, you should have," she said, out of breath and in pain, but with a jovial smile on her face.

"I put a lot of power into that swing," he said with a congratulatory wink. "You've gotten stronger."

"Yes, I have," she answered confidently.

"Stronger, but slower," Hogan spoke with his typical grim expression. "I nearly struck you."

"'Nearly' isn't close enough, my friend." She smirked.

Hogan put his mace back in its holder and nodded. "Perhaps, but I doubt you would have been satisfied with such a performance last time."

She scoffed quietly at his criticism, but accepted the truth to his statement. She held her side as she carefully sat down on the grass and groaned when she finally hit the ground. It was not a deep wound, but it was bleeding, and her warm blood was beginning to soak through the thick material of her tunic. The moves she had performed after she had been wounded had aggravated the injury as well; she could feel the tear enlarge when she had fought Volstagg's ax.

"You're hurt," Volstagg said with some surprise.

"It was Fandral's blow to her side. It glanced off of her armor and hit her hip," Hogan explained.

Fandral looked on in concern and bowed in apology. "I'm sorry, Sif."

"It is senseless to apologize for a legitimate move," she said, "and it isn't bad."

"Where are your healing stones?" asked Hogan.

"I don't have any left."

Fandral started, "I'll get some from my…"

"You don't have any either," she interrupted. "I - borrowed yours some time ago."

He raised a questioning eyebrow. "We were just given that batch. What kind of injury could possibly have used so many stones?"

"A serious one," she said without elaboration. She didn't believe Fandral would appreciate knowing exactly who had received the benefit of his ration.

He respected her desire for privacy and stuck out his hand to help her up. "Then come; I will help you to the healing rooms. We can use their supply."

Sif accepted his hand and his help as she slowly stood. Hogan and Volstagg had both offered to accompany them, but she declined and ordered them to stay. There was no reason why training that day had to be cut short for everyone.

The trip back to the healing rooms was long, but not unpleasant, considering her condition. The distance from their usual training grounds was too short for horseback, but it was also smooth and flat. She supported her side with a spare cloth, holding it tightly to stem the bleeding; she was able to travel at a reasonable pace this way.

"You pushed yourself too hard," Fandral said once they were out of earshot from the others.

"It isn't as bad as it seems," she argued.

"If Hogan's assessment was correct, you fought injured for quite a while. Why didn't you call for us to stop? There's no sense in carrying a wound like this for a mere sparring session."

She smiled. "I may have overdone it, but aside from my pain, I was enjoying myself. A long, difficult spar was exactly what I needed today."

He nodded and was silent for a moment, hoping she would volunteer the answer to the question plaguing him before he asked for it. "You know I am hardly one to pry into the personal lives of my compeers…" he began.

"Usually because you're too busy bragging about your own," she interjected coyly.

He chuckled. "You speak truth," he said in a humored tone. "You seem very distracted today. Despite your victory against us, Hogan was accurate in his criticisms. You were slow to react and at times, you appeared to be mentally distant from the fight; unfocused, even."

She looked at the ground; a soft smile was on her lips. "Your vision is sharp."

"Would it be out of line to ask what is troubling you? I have never witnessed a moment when you were distracted by your emotions in battle. You are usually the rock of all of us."

She felt a sense of pride at the implied compliment. She _had_ to be a rock. If she wasn't, the success she had built may be jeopardized. However, achieving emotional fortitude was easier said than done, and it was nice that her closest friends recognized it as one of her assets.

"You are a close and trusted friend, Fandral, and one of my most valued colleagues. It's a logical and pragmatic request, but I trust I can be confident that this will remain between us."

"Absolutely," he said, "my lips are sealed."

"Thor and I had an - enlightening discussion about our past and our future."

Fandral stopped in his tracks along the trail they were following.

"What's wrong?" she asked when she realized he was no longer matching her pace.

He looked at the sky uneasily. "Did this have something to do with your betrothal?"

She turned and put a hand on her uninjured hip. "Why?" she asked in suspicion of his tone.

"And was this instigated via any effort of Loki's?" Sif did not respond, but her brow wrinkled in puzzlement. Fandral had his answer. "Damn," he said bluntly, "I am sorry, Sif."

Her expression softened, but it still showed her displeasure. "Yes, he mentioned he had a small chat with you. It seems he has had an easier time procuring information from us than we have from him."

"I was overconfident and needlessly talkative. Next time, I will improve the guard over my own mouth before so carefully monitoring his."

"I don't count it against you, Fandral. Loki is clever and quick-witted," she said, though her tone indicated she may not have been entirely sincere in saying it.

He examined the features of her face, her downward-curved lips, and the wrinkle that appeared on the inside of her left brow when she was angry. "Whatever damage he'd hoped to cause, he was successful. What exactly did your 'enlightening' conversation entail? What happened?"

"Something that should have happened years ago." She began walking slowly again, passing him by. He resumed his position slightly behind her, respecting her inferential request for distance.

"I'm sorry," he said lowly. It was something he saw coming and everyone in their circle had already accepted, but hearing that it was official seemed like the death of something very important.

"Don't be," she argued. "This was only a formality."

"But you are grieved for him. I can see it from here," he retorted. "If you love him still, why surrender him so readily to a Midgardian mortal?"

Red-faced, she once again stopped walking and turned towards him. "It is _because_ of my love for him that I am willing to give him to another. My friendship and loyalty for him is deeper than any desire to be his wife."

Fandral arched his brow in sympathy and placed a gentle hand supportively on her shoulder "If there's anything…"

"Fandral," she interrupted. "Showing me pity will only worsen my despondency - and I will throw you down if I hear you say 'sorry' again."

He smiled slightly as the confident spark returned to her eye. "Right - not with that wound, you won't," he chided.

They walked in silence for a moment before Fandral began again. "The advantage to this situation is knowing you're officially back on the market," he said. His tone contained that certain inflection and she knew its meaning well.

"Don't even put it to mind," she said with a laugh. "I am not your common harlot. I'm wise to your tricks and games."

The comment was harsh, but it was met with a laugh from Fandral. "Of course not, Lady Sif; I wouldn't dream of it. You're more like a little sister to me."

"And you, the elder brother I never asked for," she joked, punching him lightly on the arm.

He rubbed the now sore spot gingerly. Even in jest and while injured, she could make it hurt. His concern for her waned. If there was one woman who would be strong enough to handle losing the second mightiest man in the nine realms, it would be her.

* * *

Firelight flickered in the stairwell leading down to the dungeon; a light, tentative gait could be heard against the stone as someone descended. He cared not who it was; his entertainment for the evening would not reside in his daily visitors, but in the company he would be keeping that night. The guard at the first set of wooden doors raised his voice suddenly. However, its volume was matched by another's. A distinctly feminine voice rose over the Einherjar's and he recognized its angry tone immediately. He was surprised that she was there, and although he knew what her futile objective was, a part of him he wished to deny would be happy to see her face.

Frigga walked briskly into the room with no less than three sentries on her heels, all of whom were attempting to convince her to go back up to the palace. "My Lady, this is no place for a queen," one of them desperately argued, knowing the Allfather would be wroth against whoever had allowed her to pass.

"Nonsense," she said flatly. "One who has argued against Odin on his worst days would not be afraid of the shadows and sounds of Asgard's dungeons."

"But Lady, Loki has the ability to make mere shadows appear as monsters. Even our bravest…"

She turned towards the guard, granting him the sharpest look in her arsenal. Loki did not envy him. As a child, he'd been on the receiving end of that stare many times. In fact, he had once believed it was the origin of his own icy gaze. Although it was disappointing to realize that it was not inherited through genetics, it still humored him that it could cause three, highly-trained Einherjar to shrink back with their tails between their legs.

"He will do no such thing in my presence," she said confidently.

The head guard looked back at Loki uneasily, but the trickster made no argument; she was right. His mother was, perhaps, the only person in Asgard who had no reason to fear him. Even _he_ was not enough of a monster to try his new trick on the woman who had raised him.

"Very well, My Queen, but we will remain here…"

"No," she replied sharply, "I want a few moments of privacy with my son. You will leave us." The guard appeared to think it over, but he did not move. "As I recall, the queen is still above the Einherjar except in times of war. This was not a request."

He sighed in defeat - a dangerous sign of defiance, even in its quiet simplicity. However, he acquiesced and left the room with the other guards, calming Frigga's anger.

Her satisfied smile faded when she turned towards the cell and saw Loki for the first time. He was sitting in the same position he had been since he was first incarcerated. His arms were chained tightly to his chest. He was slumped over, unable to move more than a few inches in any direction. His unwashed hair draped in strings over his face, but even in the shadows of his cell, she could see the toll his stay had taken on his health.

He lifted his head to greet her in some snide manner, but before he could say a word, she released a small sob, covering her mouth immediately to prevent it from happening again. Her heart broke for his circumstances, but in her position, it was not appropriate for her to exhibit this outwardly. "Loki…" she started, unable to find words. Her eyes filled with pity. "Thor assured us you were cared for, but this…"

"This is nothing," he said with a sneer.

She walked up to the dirty, black bars of his cell for a closer look. Hesitantly, he met her eyes; his blue orbs almost seemed to warm and soften as familiarity swept over him. "You…" he started, a weakness evidenced in his voice that he hated hearing. He cleared his throat. "You shouldn't be here," he said, recovering his strength. "Odin would not be pleased."

"Neither would Thor," she said, "but my love for you outweighs my concern for whatever agenda they may have regarding your imprisonment. I am your mother."

He chortled wryly at her last statement and looked away from her. She frowned deeply as moisture filled her eyes. However, she did not allow her tears to fall. Instead, she turned towards a particularly dark corner of the dungeon, focusing her intense stare into the blackness. "You're one of the soldiers Thor hired?"

A figure slowly emerged from the shadows. Loki was perturbed, at best. He hadn't been aware of the man's presence. Frigga, trained for self defense, but never battle-hardened, had sensed him first, despite her lack of instincts. Loki feared what such a slip might mean about his mental acuity, which would also affect his particular skill set.

"Yes, Ma'am," the man replied. In the faint light of the room, she could just make out the bow in his hand and the quiver of arrows on his back.

"I don't suppose you're charged with following my orders since you're not one of the Einherjar…"

He bowed. "You _are_ still my queen," he answered vaguely, "and I remain loyal to you, always."

"Then I request that you open the cell for me."

He showed some trepidation with her request, but the cell's enchantments were intact and Loki's mask and chains were well-fastened. He obeyed without argument. The door opened with a heavy clank, but her eyes did not leave the archer.

"Thank you," she said, "and I will also need you to remove his restraints."

"Your Highness…" he started in argument before she interrupted.

"You're the one named Garik, correct?" He nodded affirmatively. "I believe his mask cannot be removed except by one of you."

"No, My Queen, it cannot be removed except by the hand of one of the Einherjar or warriors that have been charged with his guard."

"And the enchantments are still in place?"

"Yes."

"Then giving him the freedom to move his arms and legs will not harm anything," she argued.

"Odin's sentence…"

"Odin's sentence did not include such manner of restraint. This was a measure taken by a fearful and paranoid captain of the Einherjar."

"Then your complaint should be logged with him," he stated.

"It will be, but as he's one of the Einherjar, his decision is subject to my will; in effect, it doesn't matter whether you release his chains now, or it is done later."

Garik scratched his head. It was evident that he was trying to figure out how to argue with her without making it _look _like an argument. The queen crossed her arms in front of her chest, the same withering look crossing her features that she had given the guards moments before.

"Be careful," Loki said. "He is an archer; their sharp vision makes them rather good at being two-faced when it suits them."

"Shush, Loki," she scolded. "Archer, you may keep an arrow trained on his neck, if you wish."

Garik nodded and bowed in respect to his queen. "Yes, Ma'am."

The cuffs and chains that held Loki were part of a system and somewhat difficult to remove, as they were designed on a pulley track that would enable the guards to loosen them without taking them off completely. He started at the ankles first, but it would take a moment.

"Are you familiar with many archers?" Garik asked as he worked. Loki's comment had been strangely direct, and as he didn't know the man, he was curious where this stereotype had originated from.

"Just one," Loki replied snidely. "He caused me quite a headache on Midgard. I'm guessing that's why Thor asked you to be a part of this little team of his, so excuse me if I don't seem overly fond of your presence."

Garik smiled subtly as he freed his feet and moved up to remove the chains around his upper body. "I've never seen you on the battlefield, but my instinct tells me you're not the type that would be vulnerable to long-range projectiles. If a_ mortal_ archer can create a headache for you, he sounds like someone I'd like to meet." Loki rolled his eyes.

The cuffs that had been around his wrists had been in place and tightened for so long, that they pulled at his skin as they fell off, causing him to grimace in pain. His arms ached as he relaxed and tried to straighten them; he almost feared what his legs would feel like, as he had only been permitted to stand a few times a day for short periods.

Garik, a normally stoic man, seemed to smirk at his pain. At least, that's how Loki interpreted it. At that moment, he felt how weak his body had become and suddenly became very defensive. "How is your wife doing?" Garik looked up abruptly in alarm. "I understand she's staying in the palace until she delivers your child."

"Loki - enough," Frigga said in a warning tone.

"How do you know about that?" Garik asked, changing the position of his bow within his grip as though he was getting ready to arm it.

"You may have extraordinary eyesight, but my hearing is quite keen, especially when the guards speak so openly around their prisoners," Loki said. "It would be a shame if your involvement here were to draw any unfortunate attention to your family."

It wasn't that Loki held any desire to strike out in retribution against any of the guards or warriors because of his incarceration. He doubted he would even have the time to focus on individuals when the moment came. However, he had, so far, been treated with more respect by making them think this was a possibility. Fear could be a powerful motivator, but it could also cause panic and anger, which could foster additional weaknesses and vulnerabilities in the normally strong warriors of Asgard.

Before the situation could escalate further, Frigga walked between them. She gave Garik a reassuring nod and he walked out of the cell, closing the door behind him. He hoped that the queen's confidence in her personal safety was accurate, but he armed his bow regardless and pointed it towards Loki's left eye.

Frigga took a step closer to where Loki sat and brushed a strand of his hair behind his left ear. She kept a hand on his cheek, a protective measure, even though she had given the archer permission to arm his bow against Loki; no Asgardian would risk hurting the queen, even if it meant deservedly harming their enemy as well. Loki's brow furrowed in confusion. Once again, he felt a great dissonance between his hate and anger and the love he felt towards this woman. She could see the battle in his eyes, but she resisted the urge to attempt to sway him towards either side. Instead, she only looked down at him, love and sympathy filling her soft smile in a way words could not express.

Despite his pride and the disparate thoughts and feelings battling within him, Loki conceded to her motherly touch. He groaned in his defeat and leaned forward, resting his forehead against her stomach and wrapping his arms around her hips. Tears that had been previously held back fell down her cheeks as she ran her fingers through his hair and hugged him around his neck. For a short moment, he was a child again, a mere boy who was in need of his mother's arms and the comfort and reassurance found within.

After only a minute, he pulled away; his eyes were fixed on the floor. Once again, the boy was replaced by a man, his features hardened with a pain deeper than anything that affected his body. Her heart tore in two. There was nothing she could do to take this pain from him, for he had mostly invited it upon himself.

She kneeled in front of him, taking his hands in hers as she fought to meet his eyes. "Thor is right; you make this difficult on yourself."

The warmth and comfort her presence had brought him dissipated at the sound of his brother's name. "Have you come to convince me of the error of my ways?"

"I've come because I love you - and I miss you," she said.

For a moment, his expression softened. It _had_ been a long time she he'd seen her - and the last image of him she had was not a pleasant one.

"I am certain your father does as well. He just hasn't been allowed to express it yet - not until his temper has cooled."

Loki shifted uncomfortably and took his gaze elsewhere. "Must we have this conversation?" he asked in a low voice. Frigga did not respond, but her brow furrowed in a questioning manner. "He is _not_ my father."

She sighed and took a seat next to him on the wooden bench. "I wish you wouldn't say that."

"It is the _truth_," he spat.

"But if you do not regard him as you father simply because you didn't come from his body, then you must not regard me as your mother either - and that is something I cannot accept." He looked down at his lap as she took one of his larger hands in hers and held it delicately. "I may not have given birth to you, but I read to you bedtime stories, cleaned your cuts and scrapes, nursed you, and bathed you. I am still your mother; a blood relation - is such a small part of that role."

Loki's brow arched sourly as conflict continued to stir within him. "I once asked Odin why he took me - for what purpose a Jotun's offspring could possibly have in his kingdom. Surely, the lion's share of the burden would have fallen on you, so I ask you the same. Why did you receive me? You already had a son - you could've given me to a lesser family, _any_ family within the court."

She took a deep breath before answering. "I shared many of Odin's ideals for you and what you might bring to Asgard. He believed he could take an abandoned prince of a dying race and grow him into something great - a symbol of peace; I agreed," she explained.

"So you saw me as something banausic - merely a tool for the purpose…"

"When I first received word that he was bringing you here, yes - perhaps. That changed the moment I first held you in my arms. I fell in love with you instantly."

"Of course, I looked like a normal Asgardian child once 'Odin's Gift…'"

She interrupted him by taking her hand and softly placing it on his opposite cheek, pulling with just enough to force him to meet her eyes. "I knew what you were; it was always in the back of my mind, but that did not diminish my love for you, nor the pride I had for you as my son."

Loki did not speak as she rested her head on his shoulder. He was confused, and for the first time, he felt a small amount of regret knowing the plans of his new allies. His role was _not_ something towards which she would feel pride.

"I told Odin it would have been better for you to learn the truth from our own mouths, when you were younger. This wasn't the way I wanted you to find out," she said. Her voice dropped to almost a whisper as she continued, "I don't suppose it would've made much of a difference, though…"

"What would you have me do?" he asked abruptly.

She sat up and released his hand. "I wish you would come back home…"

"I _am…_"

"No," she said, "I meant come back to your family. I long to return to the days when you missed your father when he was away, and looked forward to playing games with your brother. The most I ever had to worry about back then was the possibility of you playing pranks on the chefs and the elders." She chuckled lightly at a particular memory of snakes in the palace kitchen's cupboards, though her smile soon fell. "But you are no longer a boy. I wish that you would at least _try_. Your father's capacity for forgiveness is…"

"You ask too much," he said sharply.

"I know," she responded dejectedly. She stood from her seat. "You wouldn't have returned here without a plan - and it was foolish of me to believe that seeking your family's love and forgiveness had anything to do with your intentions here."

"Mother…" he started, trailing off.

She smiled at the simple name and leaned down to place a long kiss on his forehead. "I only ask one thing, then. When the time comes, remember those who love you - even now."

When he didn't respond, she turned towards the cell door. Garik was waiting for her, his bow still at the ready and pointed towards Loki's left eye. As she stepped away, however, Loki grabbed the hem of her robes, his dirty hands leaving a streak of black on her flawless gown.

"Wait," he started. She moved closer to him again. His eyes flashed on the eavesdropping archer and he dropped his voice to nearly a whisper. "I know you've rarely left Asgard, but if the opportunity arises soon, take it. Leave and remain gone for a while."

"And when, exactly, should I plan on leaving?"

Loki sighed; he loathed the idea of sharing this information, but at the moment, his heart could not bear to think of her getting caught in the inevitable crossfire. "Watch the Tesseract. It may give you an indication."

He released the folds of her garment and she nodded in acknowledgment of his request. With a creak of the hinges, the door to the cell opened and she left. He felt the judgmental stare of the archer on him, knowing that he had just surrendered valuable information for the sake of sentimentality. Loki did not need the distain of Garik to make matters worse. He already thought himself a fool.


	5. Chapter 5: In Dreams

The hour had grown late by the time Sif had retired for the night. The day had brought challenge and weight to the heart; she was in the good graces of her prince once again, but she felt as though she had allowed something valuable and priceless to slip through her fingers. She attempted to excuse the sensation as a professional concern, wondering what effect his love of a mortal would have on Asgard, and whether the king would permit such a pursuit to continue. No matter how hard she tried to justify her feelings towards Thor's decisions as part of her duties of office, she couldn't deny the personal nature of her doubts.

She sat at her dresser, applying cream to her arms and shoulders, wondering how her sleep would come that night, or if it would at all. Nostalgia and sentimentality had their place, but not so much that she should allow them to commandeer all thoughts. During the day, she had held down her sadness with busy tasks, but now that she was alone in her silent quarters, she could not block the memories that flooded her mind - memories of her prince's smile, the brush of his skin, and the way he looked at her when he had truly missed her; memories of the joy of her youth, and the feeling that Asgard and all the realms beneath it were hers because he loved her; and memories of what had gone wrong and what they both had done in these years to deepen the chasm between them.

She sighed and picked up her brush to run it through her hair, counting her strokes in order to busy her mind, though she had not done such a thing since the vain days of her youth. Even despite her task, her thoughts would not quiet. She could not shake the pictures of her childhood from her head, but as she brushed, the image of her reflection in the mirror of her dresser stirred a memory of a face that was not Thor's, one that had plagued her thoughts in a different way.

The insecure boy who used to follow at every chance to train with his brother, the taller, older adolescent, whose stare always lingered on her for a little too long, and the man, with his cool touch and deep, rich voice - it was _his _unnaturally blue eyes that suddenly monopolized her focus. She bit her lip and put her brush back in its place on her dresser. Her breath caught in her throat. No matter how unpleasant the vision of him had been, she could not deny it to herself that the sensation of his breath on her cheek still burned her skin.

She pushed those thoughts back with force. She had dreamt of a man who had stolen the throne, who had threatened people she loved, and who had taken something important from her in a fit of inexcusable rage. No matter how much she had cared for him when they were children, there was little use of denying the anger that scorched and ruined that fondness. Her dream had merely been an illogical figment of a tired mind, one that threatened her sanity in its randomness and in the way it had so easily seduced her. Sleep would surely cure this ailment, but even as she laid in her bed, allowing the cool softness of her pillow to lure her to slumber, she couldn't help but fear that her subconscious would betray her again.

* * *

In the beginning, he could perceive nothing more than a gray cloud and the feeling of a soft surface beneath his feet. As the image sharpened and brightened, he could see he was in the middle of a grassy field on a clear day. The pleasant sound of a nearby brook could be heard in the distance; he reminisced in a warm breeze he hadn't felt on his skin for what seemed to be an eternity. He closed his eyes, allowing the illusion of open space and fresh air to wash over his body. He could go a long time without need of daylight and its warmth as his body was constructed for cold and perpetual darkness, but he would not deny its pleasantness when afforded the opportunity - even if this was just a mirage derived from another dream.

The scene cleared further and he could hear the laughter of children mixed with the chatter and shouts of adults. He recognized the faces of many in the nearby crowd, and remembered the event in this vision as being one of the many unofficial gatherings held outside the academy grounds that involved the student body. New students and old congregated to spar and show off their growth from the previous year; their families often came to watch and assess their improvements. It was an informal, unendorsed final exam of sorts, an event that provided an ideal venue in which to show off and parade one's skills in front of their peers and elders in a series of friendly competitions.

He immediately spotted himself in the crowd; he was difficult to miss while wearing his colors and a smaller, early version of his iconic horns. He was much younger, and his hair, much longer, but even at that age, he wore the same cold frown and stare as his adult self. He stood with his arms crossed, his eyes fixated on a point across the field. His lips moved in conversation, but no matter how close the older version came, he could not hear what he was saying. It quickly occurred to him that this was because it was Sif's dream and although she remembered he had been there, she hadn't been privy to his conversation. The memories of this particular discussion returned to him, however, as he followed the eye line of his younger self, and he soon recalled what it was that had stolen his attention from the sparring field.

She stood on the sidelines of a spar between Thor and some nameless, hapless victim, cheering, yelling, and occasionally throwing her fist in the air in support for his brother. Her blonde hair shined like gold in the light of Asgard's star, her warm skin and red lips glowed welcomingly. She was still young, but her features displayed a new maturity, undoubtedly formed in her years of hard work in the academy. She resembled a rose that was nearly ready to bloom, on the precipice of adulthood, but still reveling in the time of her youth that remained.

_"Who is that?" he had curiously asked a nearby classmate._

_"Who - Sif?" The other man smiled in humor at the look of astonishment that suddenly crossed Loki's normally stoic face._

_"I haven't seen her in a while, I suppose."_

_"Her parents sent her off world for a spell for some extra training. She returned only earlier this year and has been in Prince Thor's cohort since," he explained._

_"Of course she has," Loki said wryly, silently cursing the way fortune had favored his brother yet again. "Time has been kind to her. She is very beautiful," he said quietly._

_"Do not waste your efforts, Your Highness," the other man chuckled. Loki snapped a scornful look at him. His classmate raised his hands in concession. "I only say that because there is a rumor Thor has asked her to officially court."_

_Loki locked his jaw as his brow wrinkled deeply. The jealousy he had felt as a boy regarding Thor and Sif's relationship suddenly returned after years of dormancy, as it had been surpassed by his desire and pursuit of the throne. It had taken only moments and one look at her for that particular wound to reopen._

_As though she could sense his stare from their distance, her eyes left Thor's fight and landed on his. She smiled and waved, but there was a cold sharpness in his gaze that visibly unsettled her. Her smile fell, and even though his expression softened after much effort on his part, it was not enough to keep her attention._

The stomach of the older Loki turned as he watched the painfully embarrassing memory play out in front of him. He hadn't realized how pitiful he'd seemed in his youth. He thought himself pathetic, drooling over Thor's lapdog as though she was Asgard's only treasure. Like a mirror in bad lighting, this memory was revealing all of his flaws to him in the worst ways.

Not wanting to welter about in his own humiliation any longer, he made his way across the field to her younger version. She didn't seem to notice his presence, or care. At first, he believe she may have assimilated his image into her memory, protecting him from detection. However, that thought was disproven when he reached for the base of her neck and touched nothing but air.

"What are _you _doing here?" asked an exasperated voice behind him. He turned to see her normal self, a vision of reality, sitting on a rock behind him. Like the version of her from her dream, she wore the uniform of the academy in beige and silver, as she hadn't earned her colors until after graduation. However, unlike the projection of her memory, her hair was dark and her facial features reflected her adulthood.

He smiled wryly; this was an odd dream. She was both reliving a memory and projecting an image of herself watching it as a third person. He'd had plenty of strange dreams himself in surreal circumstances though, and considering the odd tricks one's mind was capable of pulling during sleep, a third-person perspective wasn't completely out of the norm.

"I could ask you the same thing," he said, attempting caution as to not alert her that this was a dream, since lucidity in this stage nearly always woke the dreamer. "Why would you choose to dwell on such an uneventful, ordinary day?"

He sat down next to her casually. She eyed him skeptically, but responded in a much more thorough manner than he had expected. "On the contrary, it was far from 'ordinary.' This was the day when Thor first announced his intentions for me - and the day we first made love."

His smile fell; he had no wish to witness any of what she had just described, and since it was already apparent that she had far less inhibitions in her dreams than she did in reality, it would not surprise him if her mind took them there during this episode. However, as he looked back towards the field, he saw nothing changing to reflect the events she had just described. Thor continued to taunt his opponent; Sif was still cheering for him on the sidelines; and his younger self's icy stare remained fixed on her.

"This time seems so distant," she started. "I have become a completely different person since my youth. I was at the pinnacle of happiness here - and I suppose I've been trying to reclaim it again. Maybe that is why this day monopolizes my thoughts of late."

His brow furrowed in confusion. He still saw nothing regarding what she had described. The crowd roared in favor of their prince as his young self gained the fortitude to approach her. He began to wonder if his presence wasn't affecting the direction of her visions.

"I don't understand," he said honestly. "If this is about Thor, why are you focused on this moment?"

Her eyes fell to the ground, but she didn't respond. The sound of her younger voice interrupted his attention.

_"…and you have grown quite tall. You and Thor have both changed so much in only a few short years. It makes me wonder if I wasn't off-world for longer than I thought."_

_He opened his mouth to respond, but at that moment, Thor threw his opponent over his head and to the ground, effectively ending the fight. Many people ran up to congratulate him. Surprisingly, Sif stayed behind and did not join in the celebration. _

_"It's about time he stopped playing and won," Sif chided, though she had a large smile across her lips when she said it. "He has gained a lot of strength this year."_

_"He is strong, but sloppy," he said darkly._

_Sif's smile diminished, and once again, she seemed uneasy about him. "You could do better?" she asked, attempting to refrain from sounding argumentative, as Loki was an old friend and a prince of Asgard._

_"I could."_

_"But he beat you in the last round," she said, quickly becoming unable to disguise her impatience._

_He shifted his weight awkwardly. He'd been unaware that she was there to see what had been a humiliating and abrupt defeat. Thor had laughed off the competition for the sake of the crowd, but Loki's resentment towards his brother had doubled._

_"He used an illegal grab against me," he argued._

_"And you used your duplication illusion," she retorted._

_"A fair retaliation for his breach of conduct."_

_Sif frowned and crossed her arms. "There is a bitterness in your tone. You and Thor have always been rivals, but I sense it has gotten worse recently."_

_"It has," he said unapologetically, "but that is because the stakes have gotten much higher."_

_Once again, his gaze grew cold and lingered on her for a moment or two too long for her own comfort. She swallowed hard, her instincts were nearly shouting that something was not right with Loki's regard of Thor, but at that time, she hardly had any evidence to support it, and so she had chosen to ignore it._

_"It was nice to see you again, Loki," she said, changing the subject. "Perhaps we can catch up more at a later time." She didn't give him the opportunity to reply, and walked over to join the group that had gathered around Thor._

The older Loki felt blood pool near his cheeks as the reminders of that day continued to flow through his memories. It was certainly not the only humiliation he had suffered in her presence, but due to the importance of other events surrounding that particular day, it was one that stuck out in memory. Did she take pleasure in remembering his pain?

As these thoughts flittered through his mind, he began to wonder why the scene wasn't changing to follow her younger self. If her dream was fostered through her nostalgia for Thor, why was he barely involved in the vision? He turned towards her, only to see her eyes intensely focused on his younger version in an analytical manner. Realization slowly dawned on him; he stood and stepped into her path, interrupting her focus. She briefly glanced at him, but quickly looked away the moment his searching eyes found hers. Her cognitive dissonance was evident on her face, mixed with what seemed to be regret - or guilt.

"This isn't about _Thor, _is it?" he surmised.

She stood, but as she opened her mouth, she found she couldn't argue with him. He smiled and stepped closer. "Have I finally earned some of your precious attention after all these years?"

Slowly, the scene around them began to melt and change into something else entirely. The sky darkened; green grass became stone floors and animal skin rugs. The crowd and all of its noise vanished until just the two of them remained. They stood in her chambers, in front of her dresser and mirror, as it had appeared in the first dream he infiltrated. Once again, she wore her golden nightgown and the braids of her younger years in her hair.

Her eyes met his, and he did not miss the distain contained within, even though wasn't sure of whom it was directed towards. He smiled tentatively despite himself as he cautiously moved his hand up to stroke her cheek. His fingertips touched her soft skin, but he barely dared to press further. "I must have left quite the impression on you last time," he said with a low chuckle.

She did not recoil at his touch, but her frown deepened as she dropped her eyes from his. "You're not…" she started, cutting herself off before she could continue. "This isn't right."

"Isn't it?" he asked. He moved his fingers down her neck to her collarbone, lightly tracing its slight ridge and shadow to the straps of her gown. "You've always been vain and I have never hidden my appreciation for your - natural gifts." His hands traveled down her shoulders and arms. She exhaled lightly as he moved to her ribs. "Perhaps you're simply in search of some personal _reassurance _while Thor's eyes are fixed on Midgard. Is that so terribly wrong?"

He rested his hands on the swell of her hips and stepped dangerously close. She could feel the stirring of his breath on her cheek and down her neck as he leaned down to meet her. "When was the last time you were made to feel what you're worth?"

She tilted her head and met his lips with her own. All of her tentativeness and hesitancy was gone, replaced with desperation for what he promised. He would not deny her what she sought. She wrapped her arms around his neck to deepen the contact, barely permitting either of them air, even though their breathlessness was merely a part of the illusion.

"You're dangerous," she said quietly, breaking a part for a moment as if she needed time to grasp and understand what she had just done. "I would be safer with a viper." Her argument was aimed more towards herself than it was at him.

He kissed her jaw line before retorting, "you've never been the type to pursue caution." He moved down to her neck, eliciting a small moan from her throat as his teeth lightly scraped her skin.

She gently pulled away again, staring at his lips hungrily as she tried uselessly to remind herself of who this was and what he had done - something that could not be excused by the attentions of his hands and his mouth. The last vestiges of her reason burned away as he leaned in to take her lips again. In the haziness of her dream, her inhibitions dropped, and she favored the flavor of his skin over her better judgment.

She pressed her body fervently against his and ran her fingernails along his scalp and through his long, black hair. This reminded him of his original intention, the reason why he had begun visiting her in her dreams in the first place. As he tasted her and felt the length of her form mold to his, this objective lost priority. He had no desire to return to his mission, and helping the Chitauri and their master was the last thing on his mind. He knew he would come to regret this abandonment later, but surrounded by the warmth and softness of her body and consumed with her willful attentions to his own, he couldn't find the strength to separate from her.

His hands moved up her back and pushed down the straps of her gown. The silky material slipped beneath his fingertips as it slowly slid to the floor. His excited breath caught in his throat, and his lips left her warm skin just long enough to whisper something in her ear. "Sif… "

Loki suddenly felt as though he had been punched in the gut and grabbed from behind simultaneously. As he had spoken, they were violently torn apart. Streaks of white light clouded his vision and faded to blackness as he was ripped from her world.

"I said wake up!" The distinctive sting of a punch to the face appeared on his cheek, bringing him back to cold sobriety. As he reeled back from the impact, he opened his eyes and gasped. His disorientation and confusion was evident as he struggled to maintain a sense of where he was and what was happening.

The taste of copper filled his mouth. "What in the nine..!" he started, realizing what had happened. A dark shadow loomed above him, indiscernible in the low light with his blurred vision. He was grateful that his mother had ordered his chains removed, as he was able to retreat to the other side of the cell and away from this threat.

"Folkvar, cease your attack!" another voice cried desperately.

He recognized the voice as one belonging to Garik, the warrior-archer that had been assigned to guard him. As his vision cleared and adjusted to his surroundings, the shadow also became familiar. Folkvar, the wise and "mild-mannered" warrior that had also been charged with his care stood blocking the doorway, a bruised knuckle on one hand and a dangerously sharp short sword in the other.

"Do you see, Garik?" Folkvar asked, a nervous or overly-emotional edge to his tone. "Even now, they treat him as normal, as though he is a docile beast and not a threat!"

Loki raised an eyebrow in confusion, but said nothing. He'd had some self-induced confrontation with the archer, but as far as he remembered, he was neutral in the eyes of the other man. He hadn't said a word to him since the days when they used to train together in Thor's group. In fact, Folkvar hadn't given him the chance to play his normal game or say anything objectionable. While the other warriors had spent time in the dungeon ensuring he had received meals and relieving the Einherjar for breaks, Folkvar had done no such thing. He had merely stopped by for a moment, pausing only long enough to have his attendance recognized by the Einherjar before he left again. It appeared his reputation as a dependable and loyal asset was a bit of an exaggeration.

"What is your quarrel with me?" Loki asked calmly, wiping away a small trail of blood from his lower lip. "I have done nothing to you."

"_Nothing?_" he asked incredulously. "You've threatened my family."

He had forgotten the two men were brothers, and as he thought back to the passive aggressive implication he had made to the archer during his mother's visit, Folkvar's motive for these unexpected actions became a little clearer. "'Threaten' is a misnomer," he said. "He had an arrow trained at my neck, and I defended myself in the only way I could - by reminding him that even in my incarceration, I have no shortage of resources; it is best not to make an enemy of me."

Folkvar scoffed and edged closer to him with the tip of his blade. "Brother," Garik started as he watched a battle unfold within Folkvar's eyes, "I don't believe what has transpired is worthy of the penalty incurred for assassinating a prince."

"He is no one's prince," he argued.

Loki chuckled wryly. "And now you court a charge of sedition."

"You've killed _thousands _of innocents. What did you endure? A slap on the wrist and your own personal entourage?" he asked rhetorically. "Let them charge me with sedition! Someone should show enough nerve to speak out against Odin's choices. Even as a child, you lied and cheated your way towards your ambitions, but he has always turned a blind eye to you. It is time some attention was drawn towards _what_you really are."

Loki smirked. "Normally, I would agree with your argument regarding Odin's leadership, but I hardly consider his decision to let me live the worst verdict he's made in recent history."

"Maybe not," Folkvar said calmly, as his blade came a little closer. Loki backed further into the corner, but was already against the wall. "His worst decision was allowing a monster into Asgard's throne room - and making him his left hand."

"Brother, please…" Garik protested. "You are not helping me or my family. You have only succeeded in making me an unwilling accomplice to your plot."

Loki narrowed his eyes and looked past his attacker to the archer behind him. "Your brother has an overly large mouth," he said. Garik had overheard the conversation he'd had with Frigga. Undoubtedly, the revelation of his true heritage had been shocking enough for the stoic, quiet archer to wish to share it with his kin.

Garik dropped his eyes, a flash of regret appearing across his features. He put his hand behind his back and pulled his own dagger from beneath his quiver. Folkvar smirked; Loki frowned. He had not imagined his death would come while he stood powerless, caged, and cornered like an animal - without escape or ally.

"I will not lose my head or jeopardize the honor of my family over your hatred, whether or not it is justified." His brother turned and his smile dropped; he was shocked to see that the neck at which Garik aimed was not Loki's, but his own. "I never should've revealed so much to you."

Folkvar scoffed and attempted to argue, but his words would not come. He acquiesced and dropped his sword quietly. "Very well, Brother, for the sake of you and your family." He turned to give Loki one more threatening glare from over his shoulder before leaving the cell. Once he was gone, Garik released a deep breath.

Loki's scowl remained firm on his lips as the cell door closed and Garik put his dagger away. "For what it's worth, this was not my intention," he said.

"I suppose that makes you innocent?" Loki asked sardonically. "And what, exactly, will the queen say when you tell her you broke her confidence around a _private _conversation? I doubt 'I didn't mean to' will prove a convincing defense."

For the most part, Garik ignored his statement. "It is my oath: this won't happen again," he said, going through the wooden doors and up the stairs.

"That brings me great comfort!" Loki shouted after him.

He kicked the wooden bench within his cell in anger, muttering under his breath about the absence of the Einherjar when they were most needed. His heart was still beating wildly inside of his chest, stirred not just by the fear created by nearly losing his life, but also from a sort of excitement he had not experienced in a long time. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the cool stone of the prison's walls. Although he was immeasurably bitter at having his dream interrupted, he was also relatively grateful they had disturbed him when they had. If they had waited only a few moments longer, the situation could have proved even more humiliating for him. To his benefit, Folkvar's threat had acted like a splash of icy water to the fire in his veins, causing him to regain his faculties before he lost himself entirely.

He licked his lips as though her taste lingered there. He had thought her "predictable," but he wondered how accurate this assessment had been. The subconscious certainly lowered inhibitions while dreaming, but her actions still surprised him. She had been more than a willing participant, she had been the instigator, and he wondered if he would have the strength to resist her long enough to meet his goal.

* * *

The morning sun rose early, its brutal light streaming in through her window and into her eyes, waking her from what had been a miserable, restless night with little sleep. She grudgingly got up and ran a bath; her sweat-stiffened hair and gown was stuck to her body, and she could not shake the detestable chill from her spine. As warm water ran into her tub, she washed her face, allowing it to refresh her and rinse the sleep from her eyes, while she hoped it would have the same effect on her memory.

Her stomach dropped when she looked back up in the mirror at her own reflection. Her return to alertness had the opposite effect that it normally did for unpleasant dreams. Instead of fading into obscurity, it brought back to detailed sharpness certain sensations and images from the previous night's episode. What had driven her mind to play such games? She felt her own sanity slipping away as she remembered the weight of his hands on her waist and the rush of blood his mouth on her neck had caused to surge through her body.

The last time this had occurred, she had considered it an anomaly - the product of an aching heart and an exhausted mind. There was hardly an excuse this time; unless she had eaten bad meat unknowingly, this cruel creation was from her subconscious. Her memories of that day in her youth had been on her thoughts when she went to bed, but they hardly focused on him in a positive manner.

If she had seen Loki at any point in the prior week, she would almost accuse him of casting some sort of spell upon her. However, as soon as the thought occurred to her, she dismissed it. He was behind enchanted cell walls, wearing a mask that prevented him from manifesting his energy through verbal commands, in a prison that was strategically built and placed to prevent the use of magic. Still, her paranoia ran deep enough that she made a mental note to check the protections on his cell in order to make sure they were still strong and intact. In the interim, she tried her best to swallow a decent breakfast and repair her appearance so that it didn't look like she'd spent the night battling her own subconscious.

When she arrived at the door to Asgard's prison later that morning, she was surprised to find Garik arguing emphatically with the captain of the Einherjar, only inches from Loki's cell. She was also amazed to find their prisoner unchained as he silently watched them bicker back and forth.

"What is going on?" she asked sharply.

Both men stopped and bowed lightly in greeting. "Lady Sif," the captain began. "We have had an incident with one of the warriors Thor charged with the prisoner's care. I objected to their presence here initially, but now I must insist that Thor reconsider his demands regarding the younger prince's observance. This allocation is a waste of resources, even more so now that the Einherjar must guard both the prisoner _and_the warriors who protect him."

Sif shook her head as she tried to comprehend the captain's sudden rant. She didn't appreciate the insinuations he'd made, but she didn't allow her anger to show. "Explain," she ordered simply.

"It seems Folkvar has the ideals of a vigilante," the captain said. "He came here late last night, preyed on my guards' trust in order to win some time alone with the prisoner, and then tried to kill him. He would have succeeded, if it weren't for his brother."

Sif frowned and looked towards the archer questioningly. Garik's eyes fell from her; a look of shame crossed his expression. "It is true," he started, "but he was only responding to an empty, implied threat on my family's behalf. It is my fault for inciting his need for vengeance."

She looked a Loki and narrowed her eyes. Veiled threats were well within his normal convention. It was no surprise that he would've gone so far while playing his usual games. "You did well to stop him, and I'm sure it was difficult to oppose your brother."

"I raised my blade against my kin - something I have never done before and don't wish to do again." He swallowed hard and clenched his fist tightly. She put a hand on his shoulder.

"Where is he now?" she asked.

"He returned home; I told him to remain there until I had the opportunity to speak with the prince or the captain."

"That is for the best. Tell him he is relieved of his duties," she said. Garik nodded in agreement. "I will speak with Thor myself and supplement his absence."

"Lady Sif," he spoke hesitantly. "I'm afraid you'll have to cover a deficit of two. I cannot continue."

"Garik, no blame will be passed to you for this incident, as far as I'm concerned. I'm certain Thor will concur."

"Thank you Lady, but I've been compromised. I allowed Loki to affect me, and it took merely the mention of my family to break my resilience. This is not what Thor intended when he selected me for this responsibility."

"I understand," she said with evident disappointment. "Thor set no requirement for any of us, and so no oath or obligation binds you to this place. Thank you for the time you have served."

Garik bowed and left. The captain's eyes fell on Sif. It was obvious he wanted an answer, but she didn't have one to grant him. "I'm sorry this has created a burden for you, Captain. I will communicate your objections to Thor."

The captain crossed his arms, visibly displeased. However, he respected Sif's position and did not argue. He and his small garrison vacated the prison as well, leaving only the guards at the door. She looked towards Loki, who stood quietly in his cell. His continued silence was disconcerting to her.

"Are you alright?" she asked, leaning against the bars so she could speak quietly. She had begun to distrust the captain and didn't think the guards needed to overhear this conversation.

He raised an eyebrow and stepped closer to the bars. "You're concerned about me? I would think it would have made your life much simpler if that lunatic had succeeded."

"It would have," she said dryly and without hesitation, "but if anything happened to you under my care, Thor would not be happy."

"I suppose not - and Thor's impression of you _is_all that matters," he said sardonically. She was very close to him, and he fought the temptation to reach between the bars and touch her. It was purely out of curiosity; he only wanted to see if she reacted the same way as she did in her dreams - and if her skin felt quite as soft and warm as he thought it would.

She yawned and covered her mouth. He could see her weariness, even in the darkness of the cell. "You should be more concerned with your own wellbeing than with mine. You don't look well."

She hardened her expression skeptically. "It's just fatigue from lack of sleep, nothing more."

"Troubling dreams?" As he asked this, he humored his curiosity and ran the top of his forefinger lightly against the bare skin of her upper arm.

She jumped back at his feather-light touch, but his question garnered more suspicion. "Why - why would you say that?"

His smile fell. He had no wish to raise her defenses, but he had acted before thinking. "It was just a question," he said innocently. "Must everything I say be looked upon as though it's criminal?

"As long as you continue to spout nothing but poison and lies, it will be," she retorted.

"So quickly you accuse me of evil, even in trivial conversation," he said quietly, with slipperiness to his tone. As he spoke, his eyes drifted down and momentarily rested on her lips. In the years they had known each other, he had often allowed his stare to rest on her in a manner that unsettled her for some unknown reason. However, this look combined with his rare touch created such a familiar sensation within her that it startled her.

"When you have earned my trust, I will stop reacting so cynically," she argued, taking a deep breath as she attempted to convince herself that she was being ridiculous.

Loki chuckled wryly and lowered his gaze. How easily she was moved toward him in her dreams, yet she remained stubbornly biased against him in her waking life. She clung to Thor in reality and only her subconscious seemed to realize the toxicity of their relationship as it stood.

Loki's disappointment was difficult to disguise, despite his skill. Even though she seemed willing to move dangerously close to him in their shared visions, he would never _really _have her. "Why do you ask for the impossible?" he asked. "Even if I were to fall on my knees and beg for forgiveness, I could never return to your trust, or the affection you shared when we were children. You are blinded by Thor's influence and your own suppositions - and you will only ever see me as the Betrayer of Asgard."

Sif watched his face carefully as it changed from his sardonic smile to a frown. His brow arched in a way she had not often seen. On any other person, she would recognize it as regret. Perhaps, she wondered, it _was _regret, but not for his actions, for the loss of the relationships he might have enjoyed had he not gone down the wrong path. She could have been a friend to him, if things were different.

She grabbed the bars and moved so close to him, she could smell the sweetness of wine on his breath, and the scent of his leather armor. Her eyes locked on his, and despite his fortitude when it came to psychological battle, he was almost unnerved by her closeness. "Then show even a semblance of regret for your actions; share _something _that will help us fortify our defenses and protect Asgard in its glory; I would love to prove you wrong."

He swallowed hard. "I hope your dreams improve, Lady Sif," he said. "You may need your energy for better purposes soon."

She didn't miss the roughness in his deep voice, but despite the hopeful sign of emotion, she was disheartened by his response. She sighed heavily and left him.

* * *

"It is disappointing," Odin stated as he lowered the letter Sif had written to the arm of his ornate throne. "I know you've proceeded down separate paths, but part of me believed you would reunite at some point, despite your recent distance."

"I cannot speak for her, but we may have also believed this, which is why we waited so long to make our parting official," Thor replied.

"It was a good fit; she is noble, loyal, strong, and the people love and respect her. She would've made a fine queen," he said with a sigh. "You would be wise to look for such qualities in your future potentials."

Thor nodded in agreement. "I have, Father - but strength comes in many forms, and not all of them are immediately apparent," he said, drawing a specific inference from his father's words.

"So it does," he replied. He stood from his seat at the head of the hall and walked down the stairs towards one of the large, westward-facing windows. His eyes narrowed as he looked out at the land, beyond the city and rocky terrain that surrounded the palace, through the stars and branches of Yggdrasil.

"What do you see?" Thor asked, looking towards the direction in which Odin's eyes were fixed. "Can you see Earth?"

"Yes," Odin replied. "The skies over the city Loki attacked have cleared and they have rebuilt much of what had been destroyed. They heal fast, especially for mortals."

Thor smiled softly, imagining that his new comrades were probably quite busy helping with the efforts. "I had wondered if I would be able to return and assist them. I'm certain SHIELD will want an update regarding our prisoner and his allies as well."

"Do you _have _an update for them?"

"Mother did share with me what Loki revealed to her. That, at the very least, may tell us when we should prepare for them," he said, "though the warning may be very brief."

"Impossibly short, potentially, but it is our greatest and only advantage," Odin said. "She was reticent to share this with us at first. I'm glad she changed her mind."

"Loki only told her as a means of protecting her; it is the only decent act he's committed in a long time. I suppose she feels as though she has betrayed his trust."

"Knowing your mother, that is likely true," he agreed. He was quiet for a moment, peering out into the distance once again as he weighed a decision in his mind. "I don't think it would be beneficial for you to return to Earth - not for a while. You would be using the Tesseract, and the length of time it would be active will surely alert our enemies to your movement. We would be vulnerable."

"I understand, Father," he responded, disappointed, but unwilling to show it entirely. "Perhaps a short visit then."

Odin was not pleased by Thor's insistence, but he had made a point of supporting his decisions on a greater level as he pursued more experience as a leader and abandoned his youthful precipitancy and recklessness. "A couple of days - long enough to speak with your new allies. I would not risk any longer," Odin said. He turned his back to Thor and returned to the throne's steps. He was braced for what he knew was coming next.

"A day or two is sufficient for a discussion with SHIELD, but Father, I was hoping there might be enough time for me to visit New Mexico," he said. Odin's brow fell in disappointment, but Thor could not see it from his angle. "Surely Asgard can protect its own borders long enough that I may see Jane again."

"I'm sorry, Thor," Odin said, his tone suddenly became a little sharper to his son's ears. "I don't believe your relationship with the mortal is worth the risk."

Thor inhaled as though he would argue, but before his words left his lips, he realized the truth concealed behind his father's answer. "You don't approve of her," he surmised.

"I am grateful for the help she gave you and her role in inspiring your selfless actions on Earth. However, I cannot offer my blessing to any romantic entanglement you may have with her, or any other mortal."

A feeling of numbness swept from the top of Thor's head to his feet as he was overrun by despair. Odin's approval meant more to him than typical fatherly pride; it was everything to him. Knowing he didn't approve was the equivalent of a death to the very idea of continuing a relationship with Jane.

"Why did you wait to voice this until now? Everything you've said about my time on Earth has been positive until this point." His voice shook with emotion as he spoke; with every word, his volume increased, although he tried his best remain in check and respectful.

Odin sat on a stair and looked up at his son, granting him firm eye contact as to ensure his honesty and sincerity. "I believed your flame for her would've burnt itself out by now and I didn't want to cause you more hardship if it had."

"Then you underestimate my feelings for her," Thor argued.

"Son," Odin began before Thor could continue. "I know how powerful the pull for feminine company may be on a man, especially on one who was at the weak point you experienced on Earth, but I sincerely hoped your emotional ties with her would be severed once your form was restored and you returned home. You had only a short time together, even in mortal terms. Fires that ignite quickly tend to burn out just as fast."

Thor clenched his fists at his sides. "Then you underestimate _me_as well," he said. Odin sighed and hardened his gaze as a warning towards Thor's tone, but the Odinson continued regardless. "This was not some desert tryst with some common whore. My feelings towards her are true, as I am certain hers are for me. My intentions are as legitimate as they would be for any full-bred woman of Asgard."

"And what are your 'intentions' towards her?" Odin asked.

Thor straightened his back and took a deep breath. "Prior to this conversation, I had it in my mind to ask your permission to court her officially."

Odin stood in shock at Thor's audacity. "Do you have any idea what kind of complications that would create?"

Thor nodded. "I would bring her here for approval, and if she were accepted, she would go through the trials…"

"You would invite anarchy into this house!" he nearly shouted. "There has not been a mortal in Asgard since Earth was still in its adolescence. What you suggest would cause a division in this land so great, it would nearly invite a coup."

"Mjolnir would set those who oppose this in place," he answered firmly. "I would not hesitate to fight for her."

A third speaker interrupted before Thor could continue. "And I would be one who would resist you." The voice, deep and loud, resonated around the room and within Thor's chest. There was no doubt to whom it belonged.

"Heimdall," Thor said in amazement. "You would come against me in this matter as well?"

Heimdall moved from the entryway and closer to where Thor stood. His height was as intimidating as his authoritative presence and his powerful voice. There were very few people in the universe that could provide any real challenge to Thor to his immediate knowledge, but Heimdall was certainly a member of this rare group.

"Though the Bifrost may be gone, I am still charged with protecting Asgard's gates. I will use whatever force is necessary to prevent a mortal's entrance into our realm, even if I must raise my sword against you."

Thor raised his hand, open-palmed, at his side. A loud explosion resounded across the skies of Asgard as Mjolnir raced to return to its wielder. Thor said nothing, but his actions spoke volumes.

"Thor, stand down," Odin ordered.

"What harm could one woman cause," he began, "that a loyal servant of this kingdom would rise up against its prince?"

"It is not a physical harm that would befall us, but it would…"

"It was only a short time ago that you were grateful for Earth's alliance. Now you regard them as filthy dogs," Thor argued. He knew he was being hyperbolic, but his emotional state and his defenses were high.

The Allfather knit his brow together tightly. He was unaccustomed to being interrupted, and the last time his son had taken such a tone, it had resulted in his banishment. However, Odin remained calm and replied, "I remain glad of the friendships you've built. It is hoped the humans' regard for you will soften the hearts of those who remember it was one of our own who caused such destruction. Know this, Thor - the implications of what you suggest spread further than you can see. The dissolution of the bloodline and the impact to our culture and the cohesiveness of our people are but a few consequences that would come from such a union."

"And what of the good that could come from it?" he asked. "You don't know what she could bring - an advanced intellect, greater understanding of the forces within Yggdrasil - to say nothing of what it may do for our alliance with Earth."

"From what I have observed, Midgard's contribution to a war against the Chitauri would be negligible," Heimdall said.

"Then you have not observed them for long enough," Thor retorted.

Odin scratched his chin and grew silent. Both men knew what this implied. Heimdall crossed his arms. He remained quiet in respect for Odin, but his displeasure showed across his normally stoic features.

"Father," Thor started. Odin put his hand up, and Thor shut his mouth immediately.

"You have shown your fortitude in this matter. That you would stand firm against me and challenge one who is your better is testament to your determination. I don't need to hear any further argument from you."

"Yes, Sir," Thor said with a bow, though his submissive response was largely due to the fact that he believed Odin was going to concede to his side.

Heimdall had come to the same conclusion. "The precedence this will set will not be in Asgard's best interest. I cannot be responsible for what may happen."

"It is but one mortal woman, Heimdall. I don't anticipate this will set any sort of 'precedence.' In fact, I would wager this journey will cause nothing but hardship for _you,_Son, and your standing with the people. Nevertheless, I've decided to allow her entrance into Asgard," Odin spoke. Thor was confused, but he smiled widely. "Let her come and see for herself how different we are, how much stronger we are, and how many expectations will be upon her shoulders as your consort. I anticipate this argument will take care of itself once she has a full understanding of the situation in which you've placed her."

Thor cleared his throat, willing away the lump that had formed due to his father's cynicism towards one he cared very much for. "I hope she will exceed your low expectations, Father," he said roughly.

"And if she doesn't, I trust the matter will be permanently closed," he stated firmly.

"Yes, Father," he said.

Odin nodded. "Then I leave the timing to your discretion. Neither Heimdall nor myself will hinder you."

Thor looked back towards the other warrior, who bowed slightly in agreement. Having the answer he wanted, Thor left the chamber before Heimdall could argue further and Odin could change his mind.

"I have been your trusted guard for a very long time, Allfather. I would never have expected you to agree to these terms, especially against my council."

"Do not take my decision personally, Heimdall. My son has always learned best through his own failures. I am only humoring this long enough for him to realize how futile his pursuit is."

"Forgive me for doubting your decision, Allfather, but if she should surprise us with her strength and tenacity, we may encounter further problems ahead."

"I understand, but I don't believe it will be an issue for long. I can see only a short time into the future, in my old age, but though I envision many storm clouds on the horizon, this is not a permanent fixture among them," Odin explained. "For now, I ask that you remain vigilant for our enemies, and allow Thor to learn this hard lesson in his own way."

Heimdall crossed his arm over his heart and bowed. "I will do as you will, Allfather."


	6. Chapter 6: Falling Apart

A golden light was cast along the great halls of Asgard as the setting star began its plunge into the deep. This realm seemed in its full glory at this time of the day. High ceilings trapped the light and warmed the stone floors as the richly-colored tapestries and metal accents reflected the star's brilliance into every corner. From the city's viewpoint, the palace almost seemed to give off its own light. It could be seen for miles among an ocean of black space.

Thor stood at one of the large windows at the top of the palace's highest precipice as he awaited Sif, who had called a meeting with him there. He did not have the sight of his father or of Heimdall, but his eyes remained fixed on the horizon, as if they could see the scattering branches of Yggdrasil and the worlds within. His heart pumped joyfully at the thought of returning to Earth, even for a short stay. In the lifespan of an Asgardian, it had been merely the space of a drawn breath since he'd seen her, though it felt much longer.

Sif entered slowly from his side, but he was too distracted to notice her presence. His hair shined like gold in the warm sun and his eyes were lit with a fire among their azure depths. He stood tall and broad as his royal cape blew softly in the breeze. He appeared strong, dignified, valiant, and noble at that moment - everything Asgard needed from its king. His shadow seemed to have grown in a very short time to match the silhouette of Odin himself, a sure sign that he was nearly ready for his coronation, much more prepared and mature than he had been during their first attempt at the ceremony.

Her heart ached as she reminded herself that he was not hers to admire in this way any longer. However, along with her self-scolding, she also cursed her cowardice. She had intended on speaking with him days ago about a number of issues, but she was afraid of how he would regard her after their last conversation, and concerned her stoicism would fail her. No matter how she felt, she knew her duties and obligations to the kingdom came first. By delaying this meeting, she was only hurting her own standing.

He saw her approach from the corner of his eye and turned to meet her. A large smile from his lips greeted her. He seemed completely unaffected in his perception of her, his warmth unchanged by their recent squall; she wasn't sure whether or not to be relieved of this.

"I am glad you called me here when you did," he said. "Ages have passed since we last watched a sunset together."

Sif smiled warmly and looked out to where his stare was focused. The sunsets of Asgard were breathtaking. She had not the heart to tell him, however, that it was not the time of day that she so enjoyed - it was the fact that they had often watched it together while sitting on a blanket against a tree while she was wrapped in his embrace. The full spectrum of yellows, reds, and blues were beautiful, but they paled in comparison to the feeling of resting her head against his chest, or the weight of his strong arms around her waist.

They stood in comfortable silence for that moment, observing as Asgard's star took its final breath until morning. "Is there an update you wished to share with me?" he asked, devoting his full attention towards her.

Her smile straightened as nostalgia and the comfort of her memories vanished. "Yes, but the news is ill, I'm afraid," she started. "There was an attempt on Loki's life - by one of the very warriors you charged with his protection and guard."

Thor's mouth opened slightly in shock. His face became red, but though his tone increased in its volume, he resisted shouting. "By whom? When?"

"It happened a couple of days ago. A childish, vacant threat made by Loki against his brother's family struck its target too closely and Folkvar took it upon himself to strike premature vengeance on his behalf. Garik was able to stop him, but it was close, as is my understanding."

He scratched his forehead and swept his hair back through his fingers. "Why do you share this news now? Why didn't you approach me earlier?"

Sif was in no mood for total honesty in this case and she knew Thor would not be sympathetic towards her real excuse. "You delegated such duties to me - and I've taken responsibility for it. Folkvar has been relieved of his duties and the captain's complaints have been heard and addressed."

"He still complains?" Thor interjected.

Sif nodded. "He feels he must now babysit the warriors in addition to the prisoner in order to avoid incident. I have appeased his anger by taking on Folkvar's shifts myself. He seems to trust me more than the others."

He sighed. "That man is more possessive about simple guard duties than anyone I have ever known. One would think he would be happy to take his men away from such a task and relinquish it to our hands."

"Perhaps it is the nature of the prisoner."

He nodded. "You may have a point. When Loki permitted the Frost Giants entrance into our vaults, they defeated the Einherjar with ease. It may be a matter of reprisal for the captain."

She agreed. "Garik resigned his post. He feels he was compromised due to his vulnerability to Loki's schemes. I've also taken on his shift to cover the deficit."

"This is becoming troublesome," he said, shaking his head, "and I didn't intend the burden to place itself solely on your shoulders."

"The burden is light," she answered. "I count it a joy to take some weight off your back - and I am never down there for long."

"Your unceasing loyalty has always amazed me, Sif," Thor said with a smile, "but I know my brother can be - a handful."

"His manner does take some getting used to," she replied. He could sense the sarcasm in her tone, but for a moment, the question arose in his mind as to whether she had adapted to him, or if Loki had begun to lose his wit and wear down in his circumstances. "I have been - having some odd dreams," she admitted, though she hated showing weakness.

Thor furrowed his brow in concern. "Of what sort? Is this in addition to the visions that plagued you before?"

She breathed deeply and fought her words, regretting already, her choice of admission. It had left her mind that she had already told him about this problem. She lowered her head, afraid she would appear as though she were issuing a formal grievance.

"Twice now, I have made a choice within my dreams I could never live with in reality. In that realm, every action seems reasonable, but I awaken rudely as though I've been splashed with cold water in the midst of a hot bath and realize how irrational and even perverse my actions were."

"An effect of the prison is the slow poisoning of one's mind and theft of one's natural fortitude," he said, "and there is no shame in admitting you are vulnerable to a place that was built to test even the fiercest and strongest of warriors, Gallant Sif." She smiled, relieved he would not judge her as quickly as she feared. "Perhaps you need only to find an instrument that will improve your sleep."

"And where would I find such an instrument?"

He put his hand to his chin in thought. Humor returned to his visage. "Volstagg would recommend you go to sleep with a belly full of wine and bread; if you don't mind a sour stomach when you wake, this suggestion could aid your sleep."

Sif grimaced. "I suppose that's measurably better than what Fandral would answer."

"Knowing his own habits, he would suggest you find a partner," he said, guessing her answer. She chortled. Thor's eyes widened slightly as a thought occurred to him. "A change of venue may clear your mind; accompany me to Earth and let the others worry about my brother for a while."

"To Earth?" she said in surprise. "I didn't think you would be returning so soon."

"It is hardly 'soon,' considering how briefly my feet were set upon its soil during my last appointment there," he argued.

Her eyes fell to her hands. "Will you see her, then?"

A light appeared in his eyes that she hadn't seen in a long time, "If she will have it, I will bring her here."

A rush of cold spread down her spine as she realized what this would imply. "You jest with me," she said with a wry smile. "Odin would never allow a mortal…"

"He will this time, for the sake of his son and heir," he said abruptly, interrupting her before her words could spur his impatience. Her tone regarding his relationship was different than it had been, and it brought him unpleasant surprise that she would see the suggestion of Jane's journey to Asgard as a poor joke. "She is important to me - and therefore, he will give her chance to prove humanity's worth in the halls of his throne. If she pleases him, we will court."

A stone seemed to appear in Sif's throat suddenly, one she could not easily swallow or cure. "There hasn't been a mortal here in ages. Are you certain the journey and the attributes of Asgard will not harm her?"

"I have much to learn about humanity and their short experiences in life, but I know they are less fragile than we have come to believe. When forced to defend something they care for, they are strong. I am hoping - she will find that inspiration in me and decimate the presuppositions of those who view them as helpless."

"It is true that the love of powerful prince can be quite inspirational," she said. "I would hope the best for her journey, should she be contented to follow you down this path."

Thor was often oblivious to the subtle changes in the moods of the women who cared for him. The expectation of strength in Asgardian females created a challenge he had not yet mastered - determining how his words and actions affected them. Even then, he didn't miss the fall of her smile or the dulling of her eyes. He fought himself over whether or not to broach the subject he suspected as its source once again. "You will not accept my offer?" he asked after their silence had stretched on for far too long.

She shook her head. "I appreciate your consideration, but there would be more accomplished here by my staying."

"This wasn't an offer for a position so much as it was a thought of concern for your spirit. I pray your rest returns to you, but I hope you will not overburden yourself with this task. Your tenacity and fortitude will be needed with much more important matters in the future."

His voice had lost its humor and was overfilled with sincerity. Her lips curved upward slightly as she considered his concern for her and she remained grateful for his friendship. It was for the purpose of keeping this good will that she did not voice her protests any further. "Thank you, but I didn't meet with you to discuss my welfare. In contrast, I wished only to discuss your brother presently."

A gently-born rebuke made her point. He smiled, but his brow wrinkled as well. She hadn't shut him out completely, but he sensed a slowly-closing door to her life. No matter how close they were within the bounds of friendship and camaraderie, there was little that could mend their full relationship after the broken vows of betrothal had separated them. "I'm sorry; continue," he said with a smile, hoping it would work to break her tension.

She did soften slightly, regretful of her reprimand, though she felt she had been patient enough with his overprotective probing into her health. "Before we part, I need to tell you of the report from the court magicians. It seems there is a weakness in the prison's defense."

This visibly alarmed Thor. No one had ever accused Asgard's prisons of being inadequate and considering the extra measures taken for Loki, this seemed even less likely. "What's wrong with its defense?"

"The area which keeps Loki does not permit a full and total shield against his dark magic. The prison has also weakened the counter enchantments of the court magicians. Its natural result affects them as it affects him."

"Why didn't they address this vulnerability from the start?"

"They were overconfident and did not doubt the resolution of their spells, or anticipate what time and wear would do against their enchantments. I followed my instinct and asked them to reevaluate their work. Only then, did they realize the error."

He sighed, cursing both the court magicians for their carelessness and himself for his trust in their ability to see past their pride to the quality of their promise. "What do they recommend as a cure?"

"They want to move him."

"Do you agree?"

She didn't hesitate in her response. "No," she answered. "It can be reinforced - and I don't believe Loki is strong enough to work his way through our other measures."

He answered without thought and with little pause. "I will trust your judgment, but at any sign of trouble, be it seemingly insignificant or not, you will inform me."

She nodded. With a small bow she walked out. Thor frowned, concern growing in his chest.

* * *

Days had passed in nights of quiet and peace. She didn't dream, or envision the face of Asgard's enemy and son beyond what was necessary for her post. Although Thor's return to Earth and its purpose hung like a dagger in the air above her head, slumber had restored her perspective and her recognition of her real place in Thor's life and within the royal realm. She was confident the worst was behind her, and refused to allow these circumstances to steal away her rest. She had worked hard to become strong and successful in the kingdom and she was as desired for her beauty and womanhood as she was honored for her skill. Thor's actions and fascinations with the mortal realm had wouldn't spoil her days as they had done in the past.

She sat before her mirror, readying herself for bed. Her robe hung loosely around her shoulders, as her gown was no longer the comfortable garment it had been. Every time she wore it, she envisioned his roaming hands slipping its material from her skin. Heat rose to her cheeks and she suppressed the rush of blood that followed. Now that the shock of her previous dreams had ebbed, the thought of his touch no longer brought a sickness to her stomach. Instead, the feeling that followed such thoughts was quite different. She had grown to miss the attention; her youthful vanity was fed through his hungry stare as well as the manner in which his disposition weakened in her presence. For her, to feel desired was to feel fulfilled and her vision of Loki had granted this to her, nearly in excess. Though she knew it was but a cork in a breaking dam and an illusion, it temporarily filled a hole the rejection of a prince had caused.

A knock at her door broke the train of her thoughts. She wrapped her robe tightly around her and opened the large wooden door to find him waiting on the other side. He leaned against the jam of the entrance, his arms crossed in front of his chest while an uncertain look appeared in his eyes, as though he was afraid she would instantly reject him. She smiled slightly and tentatively as she fingered the belt to her garment. His uncertain visage became one of confidence, a crooked smirk suddenly appearing on his thin, pale lips.

"You're not supposed to be here, Loki," she said, her voice far more casual than it should have sounded, considering the implication of his appearance at her chambers.

He ignored her assertion and walked past her before she granted him entry, brushing her shoulder. He sat at her dresser and leaned forward on his knees, his loose, green tunic opening to reveal a surprisingly tone muscle structure covering his thin frame. She rubbed the back of her neck with her hand and bit her lip. A small voice at the back of her mind arose to warn her, but the blood gathering in her cheeks and ears made her deaf to this advice.

"Why did you come?" she asked.

"I am - not certain," he said with an honest laugh. She stepped closer to his seat. He straightened his posture, and though his eyes traveled slowly over the length of her body, he resisted his desire to touch her. "When this began, my only intention was to use you for my own means of attaining freedom from Asgard's prison. I learned a new trick that would've allowed me to gain momentary control of your body, only long enough to find my escape." He chuckled wryly, and slowly continued. "Freedom is at my fingertips. I am only inches away from power and vengeance every time I am here with you."

He stood and slowly closed the distance between them. He did touch her, but it was only to run his hand to the back of her skull, and along the base of her neck. She leaned into it involuntarily, and as his energy began to intrude upon her inner thoughts, she let out an unpleasant gasp.

"And yet," he continued, "you tempt me. Power and the ascension to my father's throne is all I have wanted, but now that I have the means to those ends, you seduce me from my goal. You are like a relentless mistress who entices a man from his spouse, even though he loves his wife first and most." She groaned as his being burned the edges of her mind. Water gathered at the corners of her eyes. He did not relent. "If only you returned my desire in your wake as you do in dreams," he whispered into her ear, "this could have ended differently."

"Loki, please..!" she shouted. She drew her hands back and tried futilely to loosen his grip. Blood trickled from her nose and her eyes rolled back as her very being began burning away. An invisible fire was consuming her slowly, the extreme pain showing on every feature of her face.

He frowned as dissonance boiled in his blood at the onset of her struggle against him. This was his most successful effort by far, and he had not yet experienced what would happen when his target was taken. The damage he was causing would affect her body as much as it harmed her mind. He doubted as well that it would only be temporary; it would have extensive, long-lasting repercussions for her.

He knew this method would not be completely harmless, but it was clearly more dangerous than the impression he'd been given. Were it anyone else, he would've continued unabated by their pain, or the thought of permanent harm. However, he had chosen his first victim poorly and had not counted on the shadow of regret that had unexpectedly entered his hardened heart. Even though she had fought him, moved against him, conspired behind his back, and showed nothing but contempt and anger towards him in her waking life, he felt his determination slipping away.

As she cried out his name again, she reached the part of his heart that held a mere grain of sentimentality. He felt he would never be sure of why, but he let go.

She sucked air into her lungs abruptly as though she had been drowning. Her defenses rose; he could feel the pull of her mind begin to send him hence as she woke. Suddenly, the sensation ebbed. She had recovered her faculties and looked up to see his face, full of anguish, anger, and regret - all directed towards himself, she surmised. Instead of fading into consciousness, the dream continued.

"I - I cannot…" he said with a rough voice and a helpless tone. "Not like this." He looked down at her, his brow arched as he reached hesitantly towards her face.

She could only interpret his expression as though he were pleading with her, but she stepped away from him in reflex. "Why me?! What cure could I possibly offer your circumstances?" she asked cynically, responding to his unspoken request. "What you want, you take! What, under the star or within the nine, could you possibly ask me for that you haven't tried to steal for yourself?"

His brow furrowed with evident anger, he had no argument or disparaging comment to make. With one step of his long gait, he closed their distance again and kissed her hungrily. The moment his cool lips touched, hers, she pushed him away roughly. The look in her eyes was one of scorn and disgust, but she did not rebuke him. Her silence showed that she was not completely disapproving of his act, and when her eyes travelled to his lips and down to his chest, it seemed to convey at least some measure of consent. He reached up to her chin and brushed it lightly with his thumb. Once again, but with much more care, he tasted her mouth with his own.

Long and sweet, his kiss lacked any attempt to manipulate, or force himself onto her as he had before. Her pain nearly forgotten, she reciprocated, the blood that had burned within her veins earlier returning to its dangerous temperature. Her fingers gently traced the line down the middle of his chest through the open neck of his tunic; as she reached its end, she pulled on the fabric to loosen the material from under his belt. He sighed through his nose, parting just long enough for her to pull his shirt over his head. She felt his hand tug at the sash of her robe; the material promptly left her skin and gathered at her feet.

In her haze, she didn't recall lying down, but suddenly, they were on her bed, his weight pressed above her as their limbs intertwined. As her heart raced wildly in her chest, the sensations of his touch became vague waves of pleasure. She wanted more, but the effects of her dream dulled her senses and confused and disoriented her.

To ease this unexplainable discomfort, she chose to focus on what she _could_ sense. She could hear his breath coming quickly and the rapid rhythm of her own heart. She could feel the strands of his hair wipe her cheek and neck as he moved his mouth from hers, down to her collar bone. She could taste the salt of his lips on her own. What she was increasingly aware of, however, was the feeling of his fingers upon her ribs.

His grip was gentle, but firm against her side and pressed harshly against the bone. She reached down to try and move his hand from its position, but he was oblivious to her wishes, consumed with his own ambitions. His skin had seemed cool to the touch in their recent encounters, but it suddenly began to grow colder and burned her skin in its icy intensity. She yelled suddenly as the unpleasantness became a searing, fiery pain along her entire side. Startled, he quickly pulled away and cursed as the dream began to collapse. Before he could determine why she had cried out in such anguish, he was pushed out.

Loki opened his eyes to find himself back inside of his lonely and dark cell. His heart continued to race within his chest and he struggled for a moment to catch his breath. As he moved to brush the sweat from his forehead, something caught his eye. His hands, though slowly returning to normal, were the cold, blue hue of his true nature.

* * *

For the third time, Sif woke with a start, covered in sweat as her mind swam with confusing images of which she struggled to make sense. There was, however, a distinct difference from what she'd experienced before - there was pain. Her right side was alight with a vivid burning sensation as she sat up in her bed. Her flesh sent shockwaves of agony throughout her body as her posture changed and her weight shifted, causing her to gasp and lose her breath. She lifted the cover to view what wound could such suffering to someone who was very used to pain. A small patch of black, burnt skin ran along her right side around her ribs, in the same place Loki had been holding her in the vision.

Tears flowed unguarded down her cheeks as she struggled to catch her breath. Confusion, panic, and the approaching shadow of unexplained rage welled in her mind as she slowly regained a sense of where she was and what had happened to her. Pain was all that she knew for the moment, but it was becoming clear to her that her injury was serious and she needed help. She didn't know what would cure an ailment that had no known origin, but she hurt too unbearably to leave it without treatment. She rose and dressed carefully by the light of the rising sun, forgoing her armor and its normal attributes for the sake of ease and speed.

Swiftness, however, was inhibited by her hardship. She had no healing stones of her own and she desired not to explain the context of her wound, as mysterious as it was, to her neighbors or colleagues. She decided to once again make the trek to the healing rooms of the palace, where she could receive the treatment she needed without being questioned too much regarding its origin. The healers there were used to the discretion required by the high officials they saw.

By the time she arrived at the palace and had nearly reached the rooms, sweat had gathered on her brow and her lips were pale from effort and pain. She rested against a nearby pillar for just a moment to catch her breath - and this was when she was met by one she had been trying to avoid.

"What's wrong?" Fandral asked with some urgency, immediately noticing her state of health and dress. His eyes drifted down to her side and the way she braced herself. "Your wound from the previous day - it has returned?"

"No," she said uneasily, "this is new." She volunteered nothing further, and the manner of her look implied that she was in no mood for an explanation or story at that moment.

He grabbed her arm and lifted it over his head without question or hesitancy. "All right, then," he said, understanding and respecting her inference.

She nodded and gasped at the movement of her body, unable to show due gratitude for his assistance as she struggled against her pain. They walked slowly down the hall to the rooms in which she had spent a lot of her recent time. She was quiet and pensive, and even though she was suffering, this was outside of her character.

"It seems like only yesterday we were travelling the same path in equal manner," he said sarcastically with a light chuckle. "I don't know what trouble will be assumed of you if this record continues."

He had meant the jest to lighten her mood, but as he watched her, her mouth failed even to twitch in an upward direction. His brow furrowed as he tightened his support of her weight and increased the speed and length of his step. What had been a concern before was now a deep worry.

The moment they arrived, the efficient attendants worked quickly to help her out of her overshirt. Her undershirt was lifted above her ribs, revealing the burn and exposing it to cool air. Out of modesty, Fandral tried to avert his gaze while she laid on the table with her stomach exposed and nothing but a thin undershirt covering the rest of her upper body, but as she gasped, the attendants began to whisper among themselves, confused by the nature of her injury. It was then that curiosity won and Fandral stole a glance in her direction.

One of the healers crushed a stone and put it to her skin. As soon as the healing light began to glow, however, Fandral grabbed his hand to pull it away. Sif's breathing was hard, and tears threatened to spill from her eyes once again. "What is wrong?" she asked.

"I'm sorry, Sif. My intent was to respect your boundaries on this issue, but I need to know how you were wounded. This shape and nature - it's oddly familiar to me."

She remained silent. He wouldn't believe her if she told him and the truth was humiliating. "How so is it familiar? Tell me and I will reveal to you what I can."

Sif's words had confused Fandral even further. "You've seen it as well - the day we attacked Jotunheim by Thor's direction. Volstagg bore a similar mark on his arm when he was grabbed by a Frost Giant."

Sif tried to sit up, but her pain was too great. She rested again on her back and gasped as she tenderly held her side. "That isn't possible," she said, mostly to convince her own ears. The pieces of this puzzle were beginning to fit within their places, but denial and disbelief prevented her from settling on the complete truth. "I would give you my word - I have not had contest with any Jotun since that day."

"Then how did you get hurt?" Fandral said with some frustration and desperation. "As your friend, I will beg you to tell me for your own sake, if that's what you require."

She put her hand to her forehead and whimpered, tears welling up in her eyes. "It was only a dream," she said in a strained voice.

"A dream?" he asked incredulously. "A dream of what?"

"I was with Loki and he…"

"Loki?" Fandral said in surprise, his anger already apparent across his expression. "What sort of struggle did he provide that would have caused such a wound?"

Sif didn't correct Fandral's assumption that Loki and her had fought. It was adequate for the purposes intended, and she couldn't bring herself to reveal more. "He grabbed my waist and held me there. His hand turned to ice and began to burn… That is when I woke."

He ran his hand through his beard in thought. "I must ask you to endure your suffering for a little longer, Sif. Whether the fault is Loki's or another miscreant - I believe Thor should know."

She wanted to argue, but found she couldn't. She had promised Thor she would tell him if any problem occurred from Loki's incarceration and this was very troubling. Fandral wasn't out of bounds in his request. "I'll speak with Thor after the healers have…"

"No," he stated adamantly. "I'll bring him here. Remain and rest, but leave your wound for him to see with his own eyes."

She agreed reluctantly and stayed behind. It took quite a while for them to return. In the absence of company, she was left with her own thoughts. The vision replayed in her mind over and over; she dissected its elements to find meaning in what seemed to be chaos in her own perception.

The Loki within her dream had referenced it for what it was. Such self-awareness from a character in a mirage was uncommon. Did this mean he was actually there, present within her thoughts as much as she was? Had he intended on harming her from the start? If this was even possible, how had he managed to work through the numerous guards on his magic?

She asked herself these questions repeatedly, pulling from the remnants of memory that were quickly fading to gray. As she fought against the loss, other images began to supersede her vision and memory of what he had said. His set jaw and searching eyes, the feeling of his hands upon her skin and his cool lips exploring her own - the memories of this part of her dream interjected themselves into her retrospection.

Tears fell freely from her eyes. If Loki had used his magic to invade her dreams - then it was really him she had laid with.

The doors to the healing rooms opened with a crash. Sif wiped the moist trails from her cheeks quickly, knowing who had entered without having to look. He rushed to her bedside, his eyes filled with anger and concern as he looked over her body for injury. "Are you alright?" he asked first. She nodded and grabbed his hand, using it to assist her in sitting up. "Fandral told me you had been attacked, and that your wound had seemingly come from a Jotun." She raised her shirt over her ribs, allowing him to inspect the area. "This looks as though it's a burn," he observed in confusion.

"As did Volstagg's wound when we returned from Jotunheim. An ice attack so cold that it burns even Asgardian skin - it was effective. Had the Jotun held on longer, Volstagg may have lost his arm. I can't imagine what it could have done so near the primary organs," Fandral explained. Thor straightened his posture and rubbed his neck. "Tell him the manner in which this mark appeared, Sif. Therein lays the crux of this mystery."

She pulled her shirt down and gently braced her side. Her lips were silent as she searched carefully for words by which to frame her story. "Loki has been the focus of many of my dreams as of late," she said plainly. "Last night, he appeared and told me he had learned some sort of magic that would have allowed him to take control of me through the intrusion of my dreams. He sought his escape, and I resisted his efforts to take my body." She paused and swallowed hard as she prepared her lie. "We fought - and while we struggled, he grabbed my ribs, leaving this mark."

Thor remained quiet after her recount finished, and so Fandral spoke. "I believe Loki learned some spells of the Jotuns while he conspired with them against Odin. He has always been knowledgeable with ice magic. Combined with his psychic abilities, it would make sense that this would be his doing."

Thor sat slowly on the bed next to Sif. Her eyes searched his carefully, but she believed she already knew the key to this enigma.

"I've lied to you," Thor said with a heavy tone, "to all of you."

Fandral crossed his arms as he looked back from Thor to Sif; she didn't look so surprised.

"Laufeyson?" she asked simply.

Thor's eyes fell to the floor. "It is true," he answered simply.

Sif's stomach sank, a wave of nausea instigated by the pain of her wound and this revelation caused her to double-over with a groan. Fandral had missed the inference and looked on in confusion and expectation that he would soon have an explanation.

"Loki is not my brother, and he is not naturally of this realm," he started. "He was born to Laufey, King of the Jotuns, and abandoned to die as an infant. Odin found him in the ruins of Jotunheim and took him into his home - raising him as his second born."

Fandral laughed at Thor in disbelief. "This is a _strange _jest," he said.

Sif found no humor in it, and as her face darkened further, the concern of her friends grew. "He _will_ answer for this," Thor said firmly, standing from his seat. "I will draw him from his cell and demand explanation for what he has done."

Sif could find no excuse or reason to protest, though she would have been content never to see Loki's face again in her lifetime. She waited there in long silence while he retrieved the guard and ordered him to bring in his brother. Fandral went with the Einherjar to help, leaving the two of them alone. After Thor was sure they were out of earshot, his visage changed and he looked upon her with great care and sympathy.

"These dreams - were they not the dreams you spoke of before?"

She hated seeing his face as it was, particularly when it was directed towards her. She looked away and sighed as deeply as her nerves would allow. "Yes, they were."

"I should have listened to you," he said, "instead of dismissing your claim as a byproduct of emotion or - intestinal distress."

"It's alright, Thor. It was not in my realm of thought that such a trick was possible, even for a master of his art. I had no expectations otherwise for you."

"I should have foreseen it," he said. "As his brother and his rival, I should have known him better. Had I not underestimated him, I could have prevented this, his betrayal - all of it. Instead, I allowed myself to be fooled, mocked, and manipulated into falling for his schemes. Many have been hurt because I have given him too much of my faith."

She had only heard his voice immersed in such regret once, during his fall. "This mark will heal," she assured him, though she doubted the scar on her mind would fade as fast. "Earth heals as well."

He smiled sadly at her. "I must be a fool for wanting to drag another into this life. She may prove to be nothing more than another target."

Sif's heart lifted with his words of doubt. "You're most likely right," she answered, "but would it be worth it to both of you?"

Thor looked as though he would answer, though no words escaped his lips. His brow furrowed as his thoughts deepened. She hoped he had begun to see reason, but as soon as she recognized the change in her mood and its reason, she immediately felt guilty. Before the conversation could further continue, the doors opened. A group of no fewer than five Einherjar walked in, accompanied by Fandral and Hogan, who had been on watch in the dungeon. In the center of the group, surrounded and restrained by chains once again, was their prisoner.

"Secure him and then leave us," he ordered.

The guards did what they were told without questions, having faith that he could handle his brother, should the worst occur. Fandral and Hogan stayed behind, but granted them distance by staying near the entrance to the room. It was their right, in Thor's view, for them to remain. Sif was their friend as much as she was his, and they may lend support through their presence.

Loki had only a shadow of an idea of why they had called him there. His eyes burned in the intense light of the early morning sun after having spent so much time in the endless dark of the prison. The chains scraped the still raw flesh of his wrists and their weight reinstated the weariness of his shoulders and arms. The guards forced him to kneel and drew back the chains so he couldn't move from this position. He would have preferred the environment of his cell to that bright room, especially in the company of four who had lust for his blood in their eyes.

"Why did you summon me?" he asked. His chains rattled as he tried to adjust his posture, but the tightness of his binds prevented it.

"I have run out of patience with your tricks and games, Loki. You're going to tell me how you found a way around the prison's safeguards, and then you will answer for what you did to Sif."

Loki smirked, but it was only a deceptive mask to cover the nervousness that had suddenly risen in his stomach. His gaze fell on Sif, who clutched her side. "And what accusation has been raised against me? I have the right to know the question before I provide response."

Thor nodded towards Sif. She swallowed hard and lifted her shirt to reveal the burn once more. Loki's eyes fell and a look crossed his features that might have resembled surprised guilt, if the emotion was characteristic for him. It occurred to him, finally, why she had cried out in pain in the midst of their physical union, and why she had suddenly woken from a dream she'd shown no intention of ending. As quickly as the emotion had appeared on his features, he hid it away again, masking it behind confidence and sarcastic innocence.

"Are you implying that wound was my fault? How exactly was I to manage such an assault while buried so far under the soil of Asgard?"

"You infiltrated her dreams," Thor answered. Though he didn't shout, his voice rung deep through gritted teeth. "You attacked her from the inside for your own purpose of gaining control over her body."

Loki chortled. "I doubt I would be in these circumstances if my powers matched the scope of your words," he said.

"Do not pretend to be so helpless," Thor said. "My friend Erik Selvig has told me of his experience working under your control. I am not so ignorant in the realm of magic to believe this is your first time using your power in this manner."

Loki disguised his surprise; Thor was more than half-right. He had taken Dr. Selvig in a similar way, but he lacked total control. This failure led him to seek out the method that he'd tested on Sif. What he had not known, was the fact that Dr. Selvig had been aware of his involvement, as this spell was used prior to his procurement of the Tesseract, and was therefore weak and subtle. "Perhaps the wound appeared psychosomatically…"

"The wound appears to be from a Frost Giant's touch. How would I have known?" she asked, her volume increasing with each word. "Until Thor told us a moment ago, I had no idea you were a - Jotun." The last word in her remark dripped with disgust and her mouth fell into a deep frown.

Loki laughed wryly and he lowered his eyes. His jaw was tightly set as his body began to shake with anger. His knuckles turned white with clenched fists as blood appeared under his nails from his palms. "I was only stretching my legs - and having some fun," he said in a tone far more casual than his actual state. "Sharing her dreams was just a way for me to stave off claustrophobia. I suppose I momentarily lost control over the strength of my own energy, but she will heal; there was no real harm done to her."

Sif opened her mouth to argue, but did not dare to speak too freely, lest she compromise her own dignity. "…_no real harm?_" she said through her teeth.

He looked up slowly, gazing at her witheringly from beneath his deep brow. "None was intended," he said truthfully, though his tone was mixed with reproach for her unspoken accusation.

Thor looked on between them, sensing a missing piece from their stories. "Loki, if you intended no harm, then why did you fight her?"

"Fight?" he asked in confusion. Sif's eyes immediately fell away from his, and he swore he could barely see the tint of a blush of humiliation rise to her cheeks. He laughed heartily. "Is that what she told you? I wouldn't exactly define it as _fighting…_"

Before he could finish his thought, she had jumped from her seat and laid her fist on his jaw as hard as she could. He fell sideways to the floor, unable to break his fall or correct his balance due to his chains, which sent his head to the hard stone beneath. Blood spilled from his brow and his nose, flowing down his face and metal mask and pooling on the floor.

Sif collapsed hard on her knees and clutched her side in renewed agony. Thor helped her up and called for the attendants to heal her now that the cause of her wound had been established. She didn't speak further, allowing the healers to begin the process of mending her flesh without additional interruption.

Thor didn't help his brother upright again, but knelt down, leaning into him so he could hear his words against the cold, blood-soaked tiles. "You wanted to prove me an ill-prepared, foolish leader and you have done so. I made the decision to spare your head against the wishes of our own people and you have proven again and again that this choice was wrong," he said quietly through a clenched jaw. "What must I do to drown your mischief and silence your poisonous speech? What you have done goes beyond trickery. To violate the privacy of a person's mind - that is a form of perversion of which I had not thought you capable."

Loki looked defiantly up at his brother, but did not speak. His body shook as he struggled against his chains and the pain caused by his position. However, Thor did not offer him help.

"I will have to think further regarding your sentence, and if I must, I will cut out your tongue."

He signaled for Hogan and the guards, ordering them to take him back to his cell and replace the chains his mother had mercifully removed. Loki was to be strung up by his hands, and not to be given food, drink, or relief until the prince was able to seek the advice of the Allfather.

Before he left, he checked on Sif's condition to ensure the healers had finished repairing her broken flesh. The wound had closed and her skin returned to its alabaster tone, but the look in her eyes indicated she had not yet healed from the experience. Her gaze met his and stayed for a moment, examining the sadness within.

"I'm sorry."

Neither one was sure who had said it first. Thor smiled softly. "My Lady," he said fondly, though his voice was rough and strained, "what do you have to apologize for?"

"I shouldn't have hit him as I did; it was purely an act of rage. I didn't wish to involve you…"

He took her hand. "Your fist was considerably less harmful to him than what I would have done with Mjolnir had I another moment to think of it. My patience runs thin - perhaps force is the only thing he will listen to anymore."

"Your voice sounds as one in mourning. You have given up…"

"I am closer to it now than I was only a few days ago," he answered sadly.

Her brow wrinkled in concern, but it lightened her heart to have him open himself to her still. He kissed the top of her hand and helped her to a sitting position.

"Why did you go to such great care to hide his nature from us?" she asked. "You could been open with this truth before we struggled against him. It may have helped us to understand his motivation."

Thor sighed, realizing these questions were due fair answers. "I did not know the truth myself until after he fell; even he was unaware of it until recently. I felt pressed to keep it secret so that I might protect him from Asgardians who would feel betrayed knowing the throne had been in the hands of a Jotun - even for a short time."

Fandral had been keeping his distance for the sake of respect, but as he listened, a question rose in his mind. "I understand your desire to avoid controversy before assuming the throne, though I still wonder why you hid this from _us_ - your closest companions."

"Take no offense, friends," he started, "but how much patience have you afforded him in the past simply because you believed he was of royal, Asgardian blood - and my kin?"

Fandral's eyes fell; Thor's point was just. "You believe we would have overreacted…"

"Perhaps you wouldn't have, but I thought it best to take the precaution and save you the trouble that would result."

They both revered him and his position too much to argue or continue to press the issue. He had his stated reasons for hiding the truth, though they shared the disappointing suspicion that he may have simply not trusted them with this secret.

Sif's feelings ran deeper and were not as kind as her friend's. She was confused, and though her rage boiled fairly against Loki, she felt a small portion directed towards Thor. Had she known, perhaps she would have protected herself more carefully against his influences and suggestions. If Thor would have been truthful to his closest friend, the woman who was once sworn to be his wife, perhaps she wouldn't be burning with humiliation at that moment - and terrified that the people she loved the most would learn what had happened while she slept and condemn her for it.

Thor noticed her silence and pensive expression. "Are you alright?" he asked.

Her breath caught in her throat. "I am."

"I must cancel my plan to return to Earth. I was afraid my leave would make Asgard vulnerable to threat. I didn't imagine this threat would come from within our walls, even with Loki restrained as he is, nor did I believe it would strike so close."

Sif hoped he wouldn't leave, but she dared not tell him this. She knew she had the option to tell him exactly what Loki had done and how far his schemes had gone. If she revealed this to Thor, he would stay and burn in wrath against his brother. This would not be fair to him, however, and she would most likely not forgive herself if it led to the dissolution of something that made him happy. "It's not necessary. I can handle myself - and I can handle Loki," she said after much internal debate.

"We will increase the guard in your absence," Fandral said. "This won't happen again."

Thor looked back at Sif for assurance. Despite what she felt in her heart, she granted it to him in the form of a small smile. "It will be fine. If we cannot take care of ourselves in the span of a few days without the protection of Mjolnir, we have no right to call ourselves warriors of Asgard."

Thor nodded, a look of obvious relief on his features. "Then I may trust your welfare in my leave?" he said to Sif.

"You may," she answered.

* * *

With a loud, resounding ring, Odin slammed Gungnir onto the stone floor. His good eye burned with fire and his mouth remained set deeply into a stern frown. For the moment, he remained silent, appearing as a statue and memorial of a long-dead warrior king posed in the peak of battle. Thor had not the heart or the courage to interrupt his thoughts at this fragile point, when he was most wroth due to Loki's latest trickery.

Frigga stood behind her husband's throne with her hand over her mouth in disbelief. Her eyes shone with tears drawn by the fear of what would happen to her second son after his treachery, and angry shock at what he had done to a woman Frigga had once thought of as her daughter to-be. She knew her husband well and didn't share Thor's reservation towards intruding on Odin's mood. After allowing him his time for silence and thought, she spoke, "What will happen?"

Odin knew her context and motivation; he knew her concern was split evenly between Asgard and her sons, though he could not say his focus held the same ratio. "Thor, how would you answer her? The desire of my temper and my compassion as a father create disparate ideas in my head for worthy punishment."

"I feel similarly," Thor said quietly, "and though I wish for him to remain accountable for his actions, I cannot summon the strength to repeat the order I made when I first brought him home. I know my heart could never manage the more severe option either."

"But it would be irresponsible to leave him where he is and give him to access the same vulnerabilities that allowed this attack," Odin suggested. "The prison feeds his bitter anger and gives his mind idle time to plot and exercise his skills."

"Father - could you eliminate his talents using your own power?" Thor asked.

Odin sighed. "It is possible, but it would be equal to taking Mjolnir from your hand," he explained. "It is not beyond the realm of reason for these circumstances, but I believe such impotence would only encourage his evil ways. I know he would not reform as you did. His nature prevents it."

"And you believe further incarceration would yield different results?"

"With incarceration, there is hope; where he finds hope, he may also find a changed heart," Frigga interjected. Odin nodded; though her words were borne from sentiment he was reticent to express, he saw the value of her argument.

"Then we are back to the start," Thor said in frustration. "If the prison cannot hold him, what further options exist?"

Odin scratched his beard in consideration. "Leave him where he is for now, in the unpleasant conditions you have set for him. In some time, we will move him to his chambers. It may seem like mercy on our part, but it will provide an easier venue in which to keep him and his powers in check."

"How?" Thor said in near disbelief. "How would moving him from Hel to luxury possibly help us control him?"

"You do not have the mind for magic he does, so I would expect you to have some hesitation," Odin began. "Loki chose his quarters because of its near proximity to Asgard's powerful center. There are attributes of that location and the shape of his home that make it more conducive to his energy. These advantages will aid the enchantments blocking his power and increase their resiliency."

Thor scratched his head in confusion. He didn't want to appear ignorant to his father, but risked one more question in order to gain further clarity. "Wouldn't that make _his _power stronger as well?"

"Yes, but the protections around him will dispel any benefits to him," he explained. He saw the doubt in his son's eyes and the question he was unwilling to ask out of fear and respect. "Thor, I know the scope and depth of Loki's powers well. I am certain he will not be able to repeat this intrusion."

Thor agreed with a nod, comforted by the Allfather's words.

"There is one additional concern," Odin spoke. "It will seem to Sif that she will have no answer for his actions against her. I regret that this may be misinterpreted."

"Sif knows she is well favored in the throne room of Odin," Thor argued. "If she asks it of us, I will consider her complaint carefully, but I believe she will understand your intentions, or at the very least, respect your word and the fact that you must consider Asgard's needs over her vengeance. She is strong, and she will heal."

Odin nodded in understanding, resisting his urge to reiterate his displeasure at losing Sif as a match for his son due to some trifle disagreement about timing. "Before you move him, ensure the magicians' work is done and his guard is set."

"I will do as you will," Thor said. The conversation seemed over, and so he turned towards his exit.

"Thor," Frigga started. "When do you mean to return to Earth?"

He sighed and glanced briefly at his father. "I don't believe such an endeavor is entirely prudent at this time, though I still wish to go."

"My mind has not been changed by these events. I find it unlikely that your brother would try something again so soon, and your comrades will be on their highest guard," spoke Odin.

Thor resisted the urge to seem overly-grateful or relieved. His mother expressed this for him, clapping her hands together in joy and kissing her son on the cheek. "I'm excited on your behalf," she said, "and I very much look forward to meeting this mortal you have remained so enamored with. I hope you may return with her."

"I hope that too."

She laughed. "Then go - prepare for your journey and ready that wit and charm that has captured the hearts of so many."

He smiled and chuckled, offering a small bow to his parents before excusing himself. Frigga turned back towards her husband and grasped his hand. "I know this was not an easy concession to make, but for the sake of our son's happiness, I thank you for it."

"I don't believe this will end in _happiness,_" Odin gently argued, "but he has changed much since his time on Earth and deserves some freedom to discover his own mistakes."

She smiled and kissed his hand. "You are a good father and a wise king, but I hope you're wrong."

He returned her warm expression. "I will only admit this to you, my wife, but in some ways, I hope so as well."


	7. Chapter 7: Reunion

She knew not the reason or force that drove her down to the dungeons of Asgard that evening, but less than a day after Sif had learned of the truth surrounding Loki's parentage and his invasion on her subconscious, she found in herself an intense desire to confront him. She knew Thor and her compeers would not approve. At the very least, their over-protective natures would deny her the allowance to conduct this venture without their support and guard. However, she couldn't bear to speak with Loki in the presence of her colleagues for fear he would reveal the complete story, so she kept her intentions secret and quietly entered the prison alone.

It was late at night by the time she crept silently down the stone steps to the large wooden doors of the prison. She expected to find the guard light at this time of the day, and was mostly correct. The two guards that watched the prison respected her request for privacy, but when she walked through the inner doors to the room that held his cell, she found she was still not alone. Volstagg was snoring softly by a dying fire, his feet upon the hearth as he leaned back in his chair. She debated on aborting her efforts, but she also knew her friend well. He would not wake easily to anything that didn't involve the sound of battle or the smell of food. She pressed on, deciding there was little risk in waking him as long as she held her temper.

Loki was not sitting on his usual bench. For a moment, she wondered if they had moved him, until she spotted his form along the darkest wall of his cell, furthest from the door. He was chained in a standing position, his arms drawn so tightly above his head that his bare back arched away from the rough stone wall as his stomach stretched; he could only reach the floor with the balls of his feet. His chin was lowered to his chest and his breaths came evenly as though he was resting, but he couldn't have been able to achieve real sleep in such a circumstance. She quietly opened the steel door, lifting it slightly as it swung in order to avoid the squeak that usually resounded from its old hinges. While the sound of her entry was nowhere near loud enough to break through and wake Volstagg, it did cause Loki to stir from his fragile slumber.

He slowly lifted his head and looked at her through his partially-closed lids. She could tell he was exhausted due to his circumstances, but she found no pleasure in his hardship. With a chuckle, he asked, "Have you come to show me pity - or to kill me?" His words were slow and dry. His posture stretched him so that he couldn't take in full lungs of air. As a result, his breathing was rapid and shallow, the lack of air, she guessed, accounting for part of his apparent fatigue.

"Neither," she said darkly.

"Then perhaps you wish to pick up where…"

She nearly growled in disgust and interrupted him before he could finish his vulgar question. "I thought you might be civil for once and explain to me _why _you've done this_._"

"Must we address this again? I told Thor…"

"What you have spoken to him is not the answer I seek," she argued. "I wish only to know why you invaded my innermost, private thoughts to take advantage of my confusion and disorientation for your own satisfaction. I care not for the status of your escape or your allegiance to our enemies - not for this moment." She tried to remain calm, but as she spoke, her dark eyes shined in the dim light of the prison.

"Have you considered the possibility that you may be overreacting?" he asked coolly, dismissing the evident claim she was making.

"You violated me!" she shouted suddenly, the rage that had been welling inside of her expressed openly through her pained voice and volume. She nervously looked back at Volstagg, but he hadn't stirred from his position and was still snoring loudly.

Loki appeared offended by her accusation at first, but his expression quickly changed and he chortled wryly. "It's true that I broke into your dreams for nefarious purposes; to this, I confess. I will also admit that I became overconfident and my comfort caused me to deviate from my original goals in order to - _experiment_ in other ways," he started, pausing to take a breath. "But Lady Sif - do not accuse me of being something worse than what I am. Nothing happened that you did not desire. I am_ not_ that kind of monster."

"You are _delusional_ if you think I would have consented to your touch had I all of my faculties," she argued. "You took advantage of my confusion - which makes you _exactly_ 'that kind of monster.'"

He looked at her incredulously. What she spoke had stung. "I think you are in more denial of your nature than I am of mine," he snapped. She crossed her arms defensively and looked away from his eyes. "You wanted me because I've always stroked your most shallow vanity. Thor chose a mortal over you and within mere moments, you allowed your entire identity to crumble. The only thing I had to do was step in and sweep up the pieces. I used no manipulation or magic once I was there with you; you melted at my fingertips because your greatest desire is _to be_ desired and any claim otherwise is an outright lie." He was nearly out of breath by the time he finished these words, but he continued, regardless. "Take your _righteous indignation_ to another ear. You used me too."

"Even if I had been able to make a sober decision, I would have been doing so under the assumption it was merely a dream! Breaking into that realm - blurring the line between reality and fantasy - it's more humiliating than I will ever be able to put into words and from this, I may never heal."

He didn't respond at first, but she could see a smile or sneer in his eyes. His body was wracked with a deep shudder and she wondered if it was a reaction to pain or anger. It crossed her mind that it may have been both. "It's not like you to play the victim, Sif. I've admired you in the past for taking what you've wanted, damn the circumstances or hindrances in your way. You're no helpless whelp, but you seem to enjoy pretending to be one when it best serves you."

"Would you really excuse_ your_ actions for _my _character flaws?" she asked. Her voice cracked as his words struck a note of truth. It was only enough, however, to increase her discomfort towards her own actions within her dreams, and her anger towards his. "Your villainy is unrelenting," she said, recognizing his nearly successful attempt to manipulate this discussion and create the illusion of his own innocence.

He chortled, causing her to lose her patience; she turned to walk away from this useless argument. "We all play our roles. I was cast the villain a long time ago - a role I am only now beginning to fill happily," he said quietly.

She stopped and turned back towards him. Her eyes shone with uncertainty, but her curiosity and ire burned simultaneously, causing her hesitancy. "Explain your words," she said firmly.

He took a breath, trying to stretch his lungs to obtain enough air to continue speaking. His chest expanded so she could see the details of his ribs under his skin, but his posture would not allow grace enough for even a moment of comfort. It appeared painful, and the shadow of pity crept upon her features faster than she could stop it.

"Do you recall that game we used to play as children? I was elected to play the monster - charged with keeping the hero from my fair hostage."

"I remember," she said. Her face softened slightly as she recalled the form of that small boy, desperate to gain her attention, though at the time, she had returned very little of it.

"Do not patronize me with sentimentality or nostalgia," he warned, catching the change on her face. Her visage hardened again, and he continued his story. "Thor would not let me play the hero, no matter how hard I protested."

She sighed impatiently. "What is the point of this long-winded tale?"

"I grew strong in defensive skills and illusions because this was how we played. I became the villain the game required - and I was _excellent_ at it," he said. "Where I am now, the trespasses I've committed - this is because of what Thor has done to place me here. I am using the tools I was forced to forge, in the only way I learned how."

"You accuse him falsely of slights that don't exist but in your own mind," she said. "Now who is playing the role of the victim? You've had free will from the beginning, from a place of _privilege_ and _convenience_. You know nothing about the hardships of your forefather, or true struggle."

He said nothing to refute her argument, but scoffed and set his jaw. He seemed content to end their discussion there and concede her the last word. She turned and continued her progress towards the staircase.

"Sif," he started quietly. She would have ignored him, but there came a change in his tone that resembled a past version of himself, a light and tightness to his voice that sounded like the preadolescent who she believed, for a time, was her friend. She paused and looked slightly over her shoulder, silently giving him permission to continue. "I didn't intend to harm you."

In normal terms, this hardly sounded like an apology, but it was more than she would expect from his venomous mouth. The very idea that he would have said anything attested to the motion's authenticity, even despite its source. She paused there for just a moment, her brow furrowing, for this small token had caused her greater confusion than his emphatic argument. Without offering a hint of acceptance, she left the dungeon.

* * *

It took only a short time for Thor to arrange for his return to Earth. A small group had gathered to see him off when word was given that he was ready. Sif and the Three were present, and seemed prepared to accompany him at a moment's request. He thought this odd, since Sif had explicitly declined his offer to travel with him, but he tried not to look at such a contradiction suspiciously. Instead, he offered her grace in this matter, considering what she had recently been through. He greeted them warmly, but as his eyes met Sif's her gaze dropped away, a contrast to the fixed smile on her mouth. His lips twitched, but once again, he counted this against the trying events of the last few weeks and the insecurity she surely felt after Loki's intrusion on her mind.

In addition to his friends and his father, a small group of nobles, elders, and court officers had come to watch his departure, undoubtedly driven by the desire to see the power of the Tesseract in action. Its power had not been publically demonstrated in Asgard for a very long time, and there were many rumors regarding its strange origin. If Thor were truthful with himself, he would admit the device also caused him nervousness. It had worked well during his return trip with Loki, but there was no way to predict its full strength, or what effects it would have on a fragile, mortal body. However, his father believed Jane would handle it well, and he trusted his judgment on the matter.

The Allfather nodded at his son in greeting. "There have been some developments since we last spoke," his said. Thor's brow wrinkled in concern, though it was unwarranted. "To avoid revealing ourselves and the Tesseract, I have taken measures to prevent the necessity of travel with the device itself." He handed Thor a small object. It borrowed on the cube's power. It shone with brilliant azure and felt hot to the touch, but it did not burn with the great intensity of the Tesseract.

"What is it?"

"It is a temporary solution," Odin explained, "but it will serve your purpose. You will not have a large window of time before it begins to lose strength, so watch it carefully and do not use it needlessly."

"I see," said Thor. "Thank you - for your allowance in this matter."

He nodded again slightly and smiled softly in acknowledgement of the hidden depth within his son's gratitude. He then stepped back, allowing Thor space in which to activate the device. The Odinson secured Mjolnir to his belt and took the device in hand. The blue light grew in brightness and power as steam began to billow from its shape. With a flash and streaks of light and color, Thor disappeared.

* * *

"Are you ready to come down now?" an overly-chipper voice asked.

He had been asleep, but in his position, with his arms stretched far above his head and his feet merely brushing the floor beneath him, slumber did not arrive easily or remain steadily once achieved. He tore open his eyes, cursing the ache in his sides that screamed from his regular attempts to breathe deeply. He lifted his head slowly, with a scowl set so firmly beneath his deep brow, one would think murder-by-look was possible. One of the guards took a step back in reflex; Fandral smiled in defiance.

"We are prepared to return you to your previous, relative comforts if you're willing to bargain," Fandral offered.

A wicked grin appeared on Loki's lips. "But I'm so comfortable _here_," he answered in a low, dry tone.

"Come, now - you must be hungry or thirsty - and I'm sure your arms grow weary," Fandral said casually. "It is not much that we ask - just a small concession."

He chuckled wryly. "I'm able to slow my body's processes to the point where I need little sustenance. How else could I have survived the barren moon on which I was deposited after Thor decided to throw me down to the abyss? Your offer is fruitless."

Fandral twisted his lips. Loki had successfully called his bluff. Perhaps the natural gift of the chronic liar was the ability to see a falsity from a distance. "You can't blame me for trying," he jested. "Cut him down," he ordered.

The guards did what they were told. For the first time in many days, Loki set his feet flat against the floor and filled his lungs deep with air. Despite his façade, he lowered his arms slowly, as they were far more pained than he had revealed.

"Your brother has ordered you moved."

"Where, besides Niflheim, could hold more torture for me than this place?"

Fandral chortled. "Really?" he started sarcastically. "I would have thought you would be _happy_ in Niflheim - in company of other monsters and close relatives of your true sires." If it weren't for his weakened state, Loki would have lunged at him for these words. "But - you have been released back to your own quarters, under the guard of the Einherjar and the warriors charged with your protection."

Loki was confused by this move, which was obviously intended on being a tactical strategy. He'd assumed his latest mischief would have worn Thor's final measure of patience. "Why?" he asked in rightful suspicion.

"Do not make the mistake of thinking this is an act of mercy or a nicety. Thor is livid for what you have done to Sif and you have long outlasted your favor," he explained. "What we do, we do in effort to constrain your magic. Your chamber may be a luxurious compared to this prison, but there are elements in its shape and position within the city that will lend power to the defensive enchantments."

This explanation didn't surprise Loki and it was a sensible move. He'd chosen those quarters for the very reasons Fandral had stated, though it was originally meant to strengthen _his _powers. Additionally, the effects of the prison most likely worked against the wards and enchantments of the court magicians as much as they affected his own abilities. The magic around his cell had weakened even further with time as well, and the constraints that had originally inhibited his energy were nearly gone, save for the limitations set upon him by his mask. Something would've had to have changed soon, or he might've regained full access to his illusions and tricks.

As a sign of his remaining power, and perhaps a subtle threat towards Fandral, Loki used his energy to materialize his full armor back onto his body, pressed and clean as though he had seen no hardship. "Very well - lead the way," he said with an air of confidence.

Fandral's own assurance began diminishing with Loki's solid tone. He frowned deeply in skepticism and led him and a group of Einherjar up the stairs and back into the warm light of day and the fresh air of the palace. He doubled his caution, and would not allow his own eyes to leave the prisoner for one moment of their journey.

Despite the relative comfort he was being led towards, Loki couldn't silence his cynicism surrounding this change. "Where is Thor?" he asked as they walked.

"He is otherwise preoccupied with another task," was his sharp answer.

Loki sighed through his nose. "I don't think so. Your vague answer tells me he's somewhere you wish me not to know." The chains on his wrists rattled as he stopped. "Has he returned to Earth?"

Fandral stopped as well and smiled coolly. "He has _not_."

Loki raised an eyebrow. "So he _has…" _he said, seeing through Fandral's fib once again. "Interesting. Is his intention to visit the human woman or has he rejoined the _Avengers?_" he asked, including a spiteful emphasis on the name of the group that had joined against him.

Fandral looked as though he was about to answer, but he merely smiled and ordered, "keep walking."

Loki's quarters were outside of the main palace walls, but in a close vicinity. The door to his long-abandoned quarters stuck and groaned as Fandral entered first; the air was thick with dust and the smell of stagnant water. Though he might have been upset that it was in such disarray, Loki was pleased it had been left alone and not rifled through at the moment they had presumed him dead.

The guards removed his chains and allowed him to walk around his house. He could feel the dampening enchantments pressing down on his energy like a weight to his shoulders. The palace magicians had been accurate in their assessments; this was a more favorable environment for their intentions. He felt confined and claustrophobic; the pleasantness created by being in his own residence faded as he fought futilely against their magic. "Home, sweet home," he sardonically remarked, wiping a line in the dust covering his end table with his finger.

Fandral dismissed the Einherjar and they took their positions on the outside of his doors. The warrior did not leave or even move as Loki prepared a fire and lit several torches for light; Loki found this persistence strange. "_What_?" he snapped, expecting some instigation of a cocky speech, or recount from his life in the narcissistic fashion to which Fandral was accustomed. Instead, he was met with stoic silence. Loki smiled. "Is there something you want to get off your chest? Perhaps about my lineage? Or is this regarding Fair Sif?"

At the mention of her name, Fandral inhaled sharply. "I am torn between duty for two separate parties."

Loki chortled. "Will you raise your blade to my throat to avenge Sif, or honor Thor's order of protection? What have you decided?" He turned towards the warrior. Behind his back, he slipped his hand under his end table, grasping towards one of the daggers that were hidden beneath it.

"I haven't made up my mind," he answered flatly.

"If you were going to raise an arm against me, the best time would be in a secluded area, free of guards, when my abilities were hindered. If I'm not mistaken, the advantage is currently yours," he said. His fingers felt around the metal clasp, and with barely a sound, he loosened the small knife from its holder. Fandral's normal clever retort was absent as he appeared to debate internally. With a roar, Loki continued. "_If_ you are going to do something in the name of your beloved Sif, do it now! Otherwise, leave me in peace! I don't threaten easily and care not for the sentimentality or love that drives your thirst for vengeance!"

At the onset of his shout, Fandral drew his sword from its sheath. In response, Loki pulled the dagger and poised himself for a deadly strike in the middle of the warrior's forehead. For a moment, they froze in their stalemate, until Loki spoke. "I love Asgard so as its rightful king that I wish _not _to waste a drop of its blood - even yours. Do not take me lightly though, or I will spill what I must."

Fandral considered his words. After a moment, he straightened his posture and re-sheathed his weapon, realizing the timing of either strike from more than three paces would favor the long-distance throw over the slice of his sword. "There is nothing to do with you after this last effort. If you show any movement against the welfare of this realm or its citizens, you will lose your head. I will advise you not to test the strength of this new prison with your magic. It will be futile - and any attempt will be seen as the offense itself."

Loki put his dagger down at his side and raised his chin in haughty defiance of Fandral's advice, but he didn't argue or protest. Fandral didn't seem confident in his decision or its outcome, but he let it be and left Loki in the solitude of his own chambers.

* * *

The eyes of SHIELD could see almost as clearly as Odin's within their own realm. The division's technology was advanced enough to have picked up the energy signal of the device as Thor had landed on Earth. They were understandably alarmed when the unique signature for gamma radiation had suddenly appeared in Central Park. Although Thor's reappearance was relatively quiet, he was greeted by an entire squad of agents in black clothing, their guns all drawn and pointed directly towards him. Thor was grateful when he noticed that two of the agents who were there to meet him were the brave archer and the fair Natasha. They were especially surprised to see him, but they welcomed his return and escorted him straight to SHIELD, where he spent his first few days debriefing with Fury.

The greatest welcome came from Tony, the "man of iron," as he had called him when recounting tales of his adventure to the people of Asgard. When renovating his giant tower in the city of New York, he had redesigned it with sleeping quarters for the members of the initiative according to their needs and normal comforts. It fell short of Asgard, but as they say, it was the thought that counted, and he was pleased with the symbol of camaraderie and friendship for which it served.

His welcome was not shared, however, by the heads of SHIELD. Fury had trepidations about Thor's reappearance, and offhandedly commented on the hardship he would have explaining his return to his higher, paranoid authorities. This agitation increased when Thor provided additional information on Loki's status and the small quantity of information they had obtained from him since he was given to their custody. His punishment was not seen as adequate, considering his crimes, by those in power. Fury had also expressed this displeasure with their chosen consequences, but Thor had argued that he failed to understand the effects of time in Asgard's prison, or the depth of meaning that accompanied the act of flogging and incarcerating Loki as he and Odin had. In the end, Fury dropped his argument, respecting Thor's position, but the other leaders failed to show such grace.

Once the matter of his business was addressed, he felt free to seek out Jane. Stark still had some access to SHIELD's network, though it was beyond their knowledge. As yet another favor to Thor, he was able to pull up the most recent information on her, a person SHIELD had been tracking since she became a known ally of the alien prince that had crashed upon their planet a short time before. She had moved from Puente Antiguo to Albuquerque in pursuit of a position at the University of New Mexico within their Institute for Astrophysics. Stark helped him find the city by means of a machine called a "GPS." It was further from New York than he had realized during his short visits to this realm, but Mjolnir would get him there quickly and without the expense of power from the portal device his father had given him.

Before leaving and per the advice of Natasha, he costumed himself in plain human clothing and tied his hair back. Although he'd only been on Earth for a short time, his face was recognizable, but the sight of his iconic red cape would surely make his presence known and hinder his search.

The GPS alerted him to his close proximity to the address Tony had inputted into the machine. Despite the populated area, he attempted to arrive discretely, hiding behind the back of a tall building and storing Mjolnir in a corner where it would not be seen. Some of the students seemed to notice a strange noise in the sky and looked up, shielding their eyes from the sun as they tried to find its source, but in the glare of the noon hour, they saw nothing. His care and disguise paid off, for he failed to catch the suspicious eye of anyone as he made his way through campus. Although his large form attracted some stares, it did not go further than the occasional curiosity or admiration.

In its British voice, the GPS directed him to a small building on the outside rim of the school's property. The red brick building had a peculiar scent on the inside. Halogen lights shone abrasively on the white, sterile walls and the asbestos tiling. Even he, an alien to this world and unfamiliar with its ways, could tell this was a place of science.

"Can I help you?" the receptionist asked warily when he approached the front desk. Her face wrinkled oddly as her skeptical eyes examined him. Since the early 2000s, strangers were not welcome on campus without prior warning and identification. Although he had passed the approval of the students, the staff and faculty were far more precautious.

"I am here to see Jane Foster. Please summon her."

The receptionist raised an eyebrow. "Who can I tell her is here?"

"Tho...uh…" he started, thinking for a moment as he tripped over his words. "Donald. Dr. Donald Blake," he smiled innocently as the receptionist typed Jane's name into the directory on her computer.

She took her time emailing Jane a notice of his visit. As she worked, he absentmindedly scanned the room with his eyes. The glitter of shiny gold caught his eye. The table in the center of the lobby held a decorative bowl that contained several pieces of brass fruit. He picked up the golden, apple-shaped metal piece, examined it carefully, and began to chuckle. The receptionist stared at him in perturbed confusion.

"It's fake," he remarked, entertained by the facsimile.

She nodded slowly. "You said you're a _doctor_?"

Before he could find an answer that could lead him to trouble, the door to the back room opened abruptly. "Don? What are you…?" Her words stopped dead in her throat the moment she saw him, and she covered her mouth in surprise.

He inhaled nervously and rubbed the back of his head. "Hello, Jane Foster."

Without hesitation, she ran up to him and wrapped her arms tightly around his shoulders. His hands encircled her waist and he reciprocated as much as he could without causing her harm, lifting her off the ground slightly in the process.

"How did you…?" she tried to ask.

He put her back on her feet, releasing her slowly. "We should go somewhere and talk."

* * *

She raised her brow, unsure of how to respond. The mere fact that he existed was still difficult for her to accept, but his account of what else had occurred since their last meeting was beyond the boundaries of her mind. They sat in a dark, quiet corner of a small, campus coffee shop, but even though they had much freedom to speak, she had hardly said a word. Her nails clicked against the porcelain of the cup in front of her. Thor was patient, and allowed her time to gather her thoughts.

"I was surprised - to see your face on every channel on TV after the attack in New York. It made me a little mad to think you'd found your way back and didn't want me to know," she said.

"That was not at all what I had…"

"No," she protested, "I know. You're probably right - Loki would've used me against you if I had tried to track you down."

He smiled. "It brings me great relief to know you understand."

"Thor, I get it, I really do. Your brother was a little more important than me and saving the world - should probably come first," she said this almost sardonically, as if she had difficulty accepting the gravity of the words coming from her own mouth.

He took her hand in his and held it. "No more shall I intend to do so, least not while Earth and Asgard remain outside of war."

"Huh?"

"Threat looms on the horizon, but I should not allow the sands of time to slip by while I anxiously watch the skies and await our enemy," he said. Worry crossed his features, though he did not shake from his intention. "I have returned so I may grow to know you better, and I will dedicate my time to doing so."

She swallowed hard, chiding herself for the pink she knew was rising to her cheeks. "I'd like that," she said with a smile.

"Hope dwelled in me that you would respond in kind," he said, "but I'm afraid that my time on Earth is inadequate for such a great purpose. I'm here on borrowed time, as an allowance from my father, and I must shortly travel hence to Asgard."

"Oh," she said with obvious disappointment. "People on Asgard live forever, though so - how do you define 'shortly?'"

"A couple of days, or less."

"That's not long," she answered; her lips curved downward.

"No, it's not," he said. "This is why I have come to bid you to travel with me to my home."

She looked up at him sharply. "You - you want me to go with you - to _Asgard_?"

He nodded and smiled. "I recognize the inconvenience of my timing, as we've not enjoyed much time together. The journey itself is - intense in nature, as the energy can be almost violent against the body. I ask you to consider this before you provide your answer," he said, "but I selfishly hope that it does not dissuade you from this chance. Asgard hopes to meet you, my mother and father are prepared to welcome you, and I promise I will protect you from any harm that may befall you during the transfer to our realm."

She leaned back in her chair, attempting to process the offer he'd made. "This is - a _lot_ to think about," she said. "I'm not sure…"

"I was braced for your trepidation. I realize I'm asking much of you with little time given for consideration," he said. "I mean not to pressure your mind or heart, but know that I do not make this offer lightly. My father was not convinced this was the right decision, but he permitted me leave on my word that you were well worth any risk that would come from this visit."

"Your father - Odin?" he nodded and she chuckled wryly in disbelief. Once again, her circumstances seemed surreal, and part of her wondered if this were a merely a long, realistic dream produced by sickness or coma.

"My mother differs from my father. She supports me and is excited to meet you. I believe you two will be friends."

Her brow furrowed in thought as she recalled some of the old Norse myths she'd studied after meeting him. "Your mother, is she…?"

"The queen, Frigga." He could see the confusion on her face, so he continued. "There _is_ some complication in that matter my father wishes not to discuss, but she and Odin have been wed for a very long time. You will find their passion for each other is still quite strong. I credit this reason as why they are willing to open the gates of Asgard to a mortal for the first time in nearly an eternity, merely for the chance of my happiness."

The smile returned to her lips in a soft form, but she continued to hesitate. "My job - it might not wait for me to come back. Everyone I care about… What am I supposed to…?"

Thor released her hand as his eyes fell. "I understand."

She sighed slowly. "We have a couple of days?"

He pulled the device from his clothes. The blue energy burned just as brightly and as hot as it had the first moment he'd held it. "I would wager on this, but I will have little warning when it is time to return."

"I see - but at least that gives us time to spend together," she said with a light in her eyes. "It'll also give me some room to think."

The warmth returned to his eyes. "I look forward to it - and your answer."

* * *

Fandral had explicitly asked Sif not to visit Loki for fear he would try something against her out of spite. His contest with the wayward prince had done nothing but confirm his own suspicions and discomfort. He offered to cover her duties and implored her to take a sabbatical, but she wouldn't listen. She kept from him the fact that she had confronted the intruder once already, and she cared not for his overprotective attitude in this matter. Although her humiliation still burned within her, she refused to show weakness by avoiding the cause of the problem, and it was not in her nature to retreat from a challenger.

Her sleep had been difficult and tumultuous since their altercation in the prison. She didn't wish to hide herself in her misery, and her rebellious streak inspired her to go contrary to Fandral's request. It was an irresistible desire of hers to examine Loki's changed circumstances, and to see for herself that his invisible binds were strong, his mask was in place, and that he no longer held the power or means to invade her as he had.

In order to avoid the prying eyes of certain warriors who viewed themselves to be her brothers and keepers, she waited until just after dusk, after the shadows had grown long enough to cover her journey in some discretion. She wore a dark cloak to further disguise her journey, though she knew she would be far from invisible.

"My Lady," one of the guards greeted as she approached the door to his chambers.

"How does he fare?"

"There is nothing to report," the guard responded. "He has not eaten, but I believe sleep has deeply claimed him. He hasn't made any demands and we haven't heard him stir since late last night."

"Have you looked in, to be sure?"

"Yes ma'am. He presently rests on his bed."

Part of her was relieved to hear that he had slept so soundly - too deeply to plot or manipulate his situation. The cynical side of her demanded to see it herself, for assurance that it was not an illusion or act on his part. "Allow me entrance." The guard bowed and opened the door without hesitation or question.

The moment she stepped in, the silence of his chamber became deafening. His quarters stayed in stillness, without a single flame left burning in his torches or fireplace. The air was cold, even in this still early hour; the light that remained in the sky provided just enough illumination for her to see her way past his tables, the pillars, and over the floor coverings.

Sif had never been in his chambers before. Long tapestries and fine curtains hung from the walls. Strange figures in odd shapes lined his tables and mantle. He was obviously more interested in the aesthetics of art than his brother, but in these statues of gold, silver, and pewter, she wondered if he didn't see some symbol of power in their angular poses. Did the figures display the strength he lusted after?

She ran her fingertips lightly over the outline of one silver form on his table. Abstract in nature, the pieces still conveyed an intended shape, emphasized by the silver light from the window. It looked like the silhouette of two forms, locked in an arm-in-arm struggle. Though they were nearly even, one seemed slightly the better, and held the other further down from his own head. She pulled her and away and frowned, confused that she could see such a story within a purposeless shape. For a moment, she could vividly imagine a yellow head and red cape around the victorious party, though if Loki saw the same tale, he undoubtedly reversed its position.

A quiet sigh from the other room pulled her focus. With silent steps, Sif proceeded to the threshold of his bedroom, careful not to allow her armor to clink together with her movements. She didn't want to wake him; she was in no mood to converse or defend herself against his verbal games, she only wanted to see him in his new prison with her own eyes.

Just as the guard had said, he was asleep on his bed. She breathed in relief, feeling her weariness for the first time as she allowed herself to relax. He was well out of a conscious state and appeared to have been for a while. His mask still remained secure over his mouth. Her restless sleep was clearly the product of her own mind and paranoia.

He groaned in the midst of a dream and turned from his back onto his stomach. The one, thin sheet that covered him slipped down his back, barely covering his shame to her eyes. She nearly turned away, but the starlight of night flooded in through his window, illuminating his skin in a cold, blue light; he looked like death, and this image brought to mind her memory of his kiss, and the strange feeling of his cool skin against hers.

She rubbed her collarbone with her hand, willing away the sensation of touch that occurred when she remembered his mouth against her skin, his fingertips, and the way his breath stirred the small hairs around the back of her neck. She swallowed hard as she recalled the way his hands travelled slowly up her sides, causing goose bumps along her arms as he brushed the tender flesh over her ribs.

She shook her head and shut her eyes as she tried desperately to eradicate her line of thought from her mind, but in her efforts, she whimpered barely. The noise was just enough. His eyes opened immediately and he turned and sat up quickly, reaching for the hilt of the dagger under his pillow. His eyes became clear and he recognized the figure standing near the foot of his bed. His hand released the hilt, and the only motion he made after was to move the sheet to further cover himself.

His concentrated gaze locked on hers, staring back at her from behind the long, unruly, ebony strands that had fallen in his eyes. His look was intense, but it lacked the sharp edge it normally held, replaced instead with a mix of confusion, fatigue, and something else entirely.

At first, she had opened her mouth to speak and explain herself, but words didn't come, and so she shut it again after fruitless searching. She set her jaw firmly and met his glare in silent challenge, although she knew not what this contest was about. She searched his unrelenting blue eyes carefully, but after moments that seemed to stretch to eternity, she faltered and looked away. Without a word spoken from either, she walked out of his room and away from his chambers.

* * *

Jane shivered lightly in the night air as they walked along empty, quiet streets near the college. Their pace was slow and their lips silent, but they both possessed an odd smile symptomatic of something new and different. In one short day, they hadn't the opportunity to develop any sort intimate knowledge of one another beyond what they had initially learned, but there was a blanket of comfort that stretched between them despite their lack of familiarity.

She crossed her arms and stepped just a little closer to him for warmth. She smiled nervously as their skin brushed and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Inwardly, she chided herself for being so much like a child - new to love and all of the pleasant strangeness that accompanied it.

"I am sorry to have you out so late," he said.

She shook her head. "We're almost back anyway and - it's kind of nice to have an excuse to leave the lab early for once." She took his hand, securing his arm even tighter around her.

"I wish to thank you for your hospitality once again. It must be an inconvenience to you, but as I did not think to bring gold or anything your people might accept as currency, the use of your couch and food is appreciated."

"It's not a big deal," she said casually. "I wish I had something better for us to do. It's a college town and their definition of the 'night life' probably isn't your style. I hope it hasn't been too boring."

"I have enjoyed myself," he answered genuinely. "I found your sport of knocking down small logs with a weighted ball to be challenging, but please pass my apologies on to the owner for the damages to his equipment."

She hid her face in her palm and laughed wryly in embarrassment at her poor choice of activities. She hated to bowl herself; she still didn't know what had made her think it was a good idea. "Is there anything you'd like to do while you're here? There's got to be something you'd like that doesn't involve smelly shoes and warm beer."

"To share your company during these short days has been my chief desire. I care not how we pass the time, as long as it is spent with you."

She sighed in frustration, though he might have interpreted it as contentedness. He had provided her the same answer since he first arrived. It was hard enough for her to entertain guests who were indifferent, but considering the expectations he'd placed on her with this short visit, the pressure was even greater.

They had established he enjoyed beer and coffee, but as she was trying to decide whether to take his sign and symbol of promised devotion in order to put her life in his hands and leave her world, these little facts seemed laughably inadequate. He was a comfortable stranger, but the normal games two interested parties often played with each other in her culture to build intimacy wouldn't work for their time constraint and circumstances. She wanted to know him better, she just had to decipher the best way of going about it. "What would you be doing right now if you were in Asgard?"

The question surprised him. He thought for a moment before responding, "I would most likely be eating a hearty meal with friends, discussing the news at court, revisiting old tales, or training in the hills beyond the city."

"I wouldn't be any good helping you train," she joked dryly, "but I might like to hear some of these stories."

He chuckled. "That is not such an easy demand to meet. What is it you would like to hear?"

She smiled and shrugged, leaning further into his side. "I don't know," she answered. "What was your childhood like? How long does an Asgardian childhood last?"

"It lasts as long as yours does, from what I know. It isn't until adulthood that the aging process slows."

"How do you do that?" she asked, unable to disguise her curiosity for the mysteries of his realm. "The myths can't be right, can they? It can't really be…"

He laughed. "Perhaps you will find the answers you seek when you accompany me on my return."

"That's a hard bargain," she said with a chortle, "and you're really not volunteering much information, considering we're trying to get to know each other better."

"The appropriate time to discuss my life will be when we are in Asgard. There, I will introduce you to the greatest warriors in all of Yggdrasil and they may enlighten you better with tales from their own mouths," he answered. "For now, I am content to hear more of your life and experiences, and how you live here on Earth."

She shook her head. "I don't mean to sound pushy, but - it seems like you're asking me to trust you on faith, and you're keeping a lot from me."

He stopped walking and turned to face her, locking his eyes on hers. "When we were children, my brother and I were great friends, but as our age increased, so did our disparate ideas and arguments. My father is not a patient man, and after one particularly noisy debate, he dragged us by our necks up to the tallest point in Asgard and told us we were not allowed to leave until we reported the exact details of all we saw. He knew our eyes did not share or possess his power, but that was not the object of his lesson. He wished us to learn how to calm our boiling blood and rage so we could observe and evaluate what was around us. He wished not for us to allow ourselves to be blinded by anger, but to be mindful, even in the event we must exercise our wrath."

He paused and took her hand in his. "The lesson, my brother learned quickly and that is how, I believe, he had been able to disguise himself as my friend, even through his years of careful planning against me. He was able to think calmly and clearly despite his bitterness. In this area, he remains my better, for I still allow my head to grow too hot and my gut to lead my actions before I've processed the consequences."

Jane remained silent. Though the source of his story confused her, she was beginning to understand him a little better, even through this small amount of context.

"I have improved - and I have learned more about my people, Yggdrasil, and the value of life during this time than I had in the entirety of my youth. I am just now, learning the real benefits of listening, watching, and waiting. That is why I remain quiet. It is not meant to offend or close myself off from you; it is meant to provide me with time and opportunity to grow and to know you better."

He watched her carefully for a reaction, but for a long moment, her eyes remained stoic. Suddenly, she laughed. "This is crazy, right?" she asked rhetorically. "I have a good job, friends - I can't just _leave_."

His brow arched in confusion, as she had apparently changed the subject, spurred to a decision by his words. "What I ask of you requires no sense of permanence for now. If you wish at any time to return, I will bring you back with as much haste as circumstances will allow."

"I wouldn't be much of an astrophysicist if I turned down a trip to another world."

He smiled widely and kissed her hands. "Then you will come with me?"

"Yeah," she said uneasily, "I wouldn't know how to act, or what to do… Do you really think they'd accept me?"

"If they are half as taken as I have been, they will love you."

She smiled in relief and visibly relaxed. Although he had resisted for propriety's sake since his arrival, he no longer felt its restriction. He leaned slowly down to her level and kissed her softly, communicating his care and enthusiasm for her decision through his affection.

* * *

Sweet, cool air blew through his window, drying the sweat from his brow and lowering the heat of his skin. He hardly felt this relief, as his mind was troubled and busy in its efforts. He leaned his bruised back against feather pillows, which were more forgiving than the rough rocks of his cell; his arms and legs were stretched in comfort in front of him, resting upon his smooth sheets; he was truly clean for the first time in months; and he had enjoyed a few moments of exercise, a meal of his own choosing, and real privacy. It should have lightened his spirits to be in his own quarters again, sleeping in his bed with his own preferred comforts. However, in one distinct way, this prison was much worse than what Asgard had previously held for him.

His eyes were shut tightly, his jaw set hard. He strained in effort to expand his energy beyond his body, but the enchantments and his mask worked against him viciously. No matter which direction he tried or what intensity he used, he was blocked by an invisible wall that locked him into his form and restricted him even more than the shackles that had held his arms in Asgard's depths. It was beginning to cause him claustrophobia; he never imagined that being severed from all of his magic would cause him such grief.

He breathed heavily in anger and opened his eyes, resigning his efforts and lying down to sleep. Slumber would not come easily either for him. Exhaustion had claimed him on his first day out of his cell and his eyes demanded to be shut for several days. He no longer felt the need or call to sleep, despite his earlier exercises and the late hour of the night. His frustration over his circumstances burned hot in his veins and would not ebb, which only made his attempt at sleep more difficult.

He had wasted his chance. Instead of following through with his plan to gain freedom and power through a possession of sorts, he used his skill to pursue a childish infatuation that would lead to nowhere of value. In his last and greatest opportunity to seize her, he had experienced a rare moment of soft compassion driven by foolish sentimentality, and found himself unwilling to damage her permanently for the sake of his own objectives. The taste of her sweet skin was his reward, but it did little to dull the sting of incarceration now.

He licked his lips in reflex of that memory, unsure if the same temptation would not plague him if he had the ability for another chance. He had awoken in the middle of the previous night to see her standing at the door like an apparition. He'd hoped at the time it was a dream brought on by his extreme fatigue, or perhaps a shadow of her subconscious left behind from the multiple times their minds had connected. If this were the case, however, she would have come to him, as he wanted - instead of staring at him from her distance as though she were trying to decide whether to pity him or run him through with her sword.

He turned on his side in his bed, facing the high window in his room and looking out at the blanket of stars that illuminated the sky like twilight even though it was the night's deepest hour. His eyes closed and he contracted his abdomen with a deep, sharp breath. Once again, just as his energy passed beyond the confines of his own form, he encountered immediate resistance and was violently wrenched back. He swallowed his disappointment and had accepted the fact that he would never see her soft shape again, but this was superseded in his own mind by the realization that his primary plan for vengeance was now cut off, and in rare form, he was caught without a "Plan B." He was trapped and at the mercy of Thor or the actions of his allies, should they decide to move first. Even the depths of Niflheim were beginning to appear more welcome than his current situation, but he missed the prison of Asgard and the relative and ironic sense of freedom it had provided him the most.


	8. Chapter 8: The Welcomed Guest

A strange energy seemed to fill the streets and people of Asgard with the rising of the sun. The privileged few of the court had done everything within their power to keep the scheduled window for Thor's return quiet, but the mouths of their people were busy, and his pending appearance at some point that day was somehow common knowledge. It was also widely known that he would possibly return with a mortal visitor - a sort of guest Asgard had not welcomed in the lifespans of most of its citizens.

At the moment it touched the ears of the people, this news had begun to stir controversy. Much of the realm was starkly divided regarding whether or not this should have been allowed. Those who seemed to believe marriage was imminent were among the loudest protestors to Jane's visit. Their understanding wasn't completely unfounded, however. No matter how Thor had represented the motion to Jane, her appearance there had profound meaning for his possible future and Asgard's, even if she were to decline his offer of betrothal.

Sif knew she would be sincerely happy for Thor if Jane appeared with him, but happier still, if she did not; she had spent much of her time internally debating and fighting herself over whether or not she should be present in the palace for his return. She wasn't certain she _wanted_ to be there, but she feared her absence would be noticed and interpreted wrongly. She had worked beyond her feelings for him since they had parted, but his determination towards this new woman in his life and reopened old wounds - and Loki's latest scheme, though seemingly unrelated, acted as salt up those raw injuries for reasons she didn't understand.

Fandral and Volstagg were among the crowd that had gathered in the great hall from which Thor had originally departed and was thought to be the point of his return. Hogan couldn't care less about the curiosities surrounding mortals or the private life of his prince, but the latter cause had driven Fandral's decision, and Volstagg had followed for his own amusement. Sif approached to wait with them, putting on her stoic mask and proud demeanor.

"What is your wager, Lady Sif?" Volstagg asked. "Do you believe she will appear with him?"

Fandral furrowed his brow at his colleague's words and examined Sif's face for change. "I'm not certain," she answered, "but I suppose if she does _not_ come, it'll be the end of this question and the issue can be put to rest."

"True," Volstagg said, "but if she accompanies him, I expect the division of our people to worsen. I hope the mortal is strong enough to face some adversity in this matter."

He looked at Sif, expecting her to argue or agree, but she did neither. Instead, her lips remained firmly sealed and the look of her features conveyed her displeasure with the idea of elaborating on this issue. Volstagg didn't push her further and Fandral remained quiet.

Time drifted by and still, the prince did not return. The shadows grew long on the palace floor; some casual observers lost their patience and left. Just as the light began to fade into the golden horizon, Odin stood from his throne, narrowing his eye as he stared towards the center of the room. A pocket of mist appeared from nothing, and shortly after, blue light emanated from the middle of the strange cloud. The energy gathered in a small, condensed ball and abruptly exploded. In a flash, the hunched over form of Thor appeared kneeling on the stone floor. As he stood, it quickly became apparent that there was another with him, smaller and wrapped in his protective arms.

Whispers and murmurs echoed loudly around the great hall as many who were present examined the first mortal to step foot within their realm in a golden age. Jane reciprocated their bewilderment, red rushing to her cheeks as she looked uneasily back at Thor. He smiled proudly at her and she relaxed slightly, happy to have landed in one piece despite the quick, though turbulent journey that she could only describe as being vacuumed through the light-years of space.

Sif watched from her distance as he walked with Jane to the steps of the Allfather's throne. The strangely-dressed Midgardian bowed deeply and courteously, in Asgard's tradition. It was apparent he had introduced her to some of their customs before their arrival. The king nodded slightly in acknowledgment of her thoughtful greeting. Frigga smiled warmly, and when Jane's head turned for a moment, she winked at Thor - a very subtle sign of motherly approval for Jane's beauty and manners.

Thor spoke during their introductions, granting her some context and knowledge about the position and history of Odin's throne, but Jane remained quiet. Her silence was also a sign of respect, as the Allfather had not addressed her and she was a guest in his palace. Whether she had done so purposefully at the advice of Thor or because of instinct, it was a wise decision; she had already begun to show some merit by contradicting many of the presuppositions still commonly held regarding humanity.

After the king and queen's mild reaction, many of the uninvited observers left. Some stragglers, however, continued to stare at her from a distance, pointing and whispering about the strangeness of her garb. This caused her to feel self-conscious in her jeans, t-shirt, and hoodie, but she hid it well beneath a healthy blush and friendly smile.

Volstagg and Fandral ceased their private conversation and Sif straightened her posture when Thor pulled Jane over to meet with them. "You remember Lady Sif, Volstagg, and Fandral," Thor spoke.

She nodded and appeared much more comfortable in the presence of familiar faces and those she knew to be his closest friends. "Hi," she said with cheer.

Fandral bowed deeply. "It's good to meet you in circumstances much more favorable than those of our initial introduction. How do you fare after your journey?"

She smiled. "It was - intense, but I'm fine. I mean, I just travelled through something the community of my peers think is still a theory," she said with a chuckle. "I think it was worth the trip."

"The Rainbow Bridge may have treated you better than the Tesseract's power, but we are glad you've arrived safely, Jane Foster," Sif said sincerely.

Jane smiled. "Thanks," she answered simply.

"Sif, would you show Jane to the northeastern guest quarters? I must speak with my father before the hour grows late."

The request caught Sif by surprise, as she was not a palace servant, but she agreed without complaint.

"You will join us for dinner later?" he asked of Jane.

"Sure," she said, looking down at her clothes and the one, small bag she'd brought, "but I…"

"I've procured what you need. Sif will help you with the details." He leaned down and kissed her cheek. "I will see you tonight. Sif, please be sure my closest friends are invited as well."

She nodded, and despite her distaste for her task, did what he had asked. Jane followed her silently, as any near-stranger would, down the corridors of the palace. With wide eyes, she studied the giant pillars that had been carved into the forms of great warriors; marveled at the intricate stonework on the floor; and could not keep her eyes from the glimmering gold and silver that lined the sconces, art, and statues along the hallway. The sight of elegantly-dressed nobles and court citizens who looked upon her in wonder caused a blush to rise to her cheeks. The experience was surreal and humbling; instead of staring back at them, she uncharacteristically fixed her eyes on the ground until they reached her temporary apartment.

Sif opened the door and allowed her to pass through first, grabbing a torch from the wall outside to illuminate the dark room. She lit two torches on the front wall near the door, but despite the additional light, Jane had barely moved into the room and looked back at her uncertainly.

"Would you like to start a fire?" Sif asked, nodding towards the large pit and hood in the middle of the room.

"Uh, how do I…" she started, examining the pit as though she expected to find a switch or flint stone.

Although she smiled in a friendly fashion, Sif's impatience increased. She hadn't planned on spending her day giving a stranger an orientation to even the most basic Asgardian practices, or playing the part of her handmaid, but for Thor's sake, she refrained from expressing this. She grabbed a large stick from a vase full of them on a nearby table and struck it against the stone side of the pit. Like a match, the tip lit up in flame. She touched the flame to the center of the pit's opening, and the fuel ignited quickly, illuminating the large room and all of its amenities. A floor covered in fine stone and animal skins, golden accents, and large curtains of silky material cast over the largest bed Jane had ever seen greeted her in the light. She should have been impressed, but instead, her face fell slightly, a change Sif did not miss.

"This is insufficient for you?"

Jane chuckled wryly, but Sif didn't see the humor of it. Her brow furrowed in confusion. "It's not what I expected," Jane said.

Sif sighed quietly and held her tongue from what she truly desired to say. However, she was unable to disguise the slight patronizing tone that slipped from her throat. "We could find you something bigger, if you wish."

Jane looked down in discomfort, hearing the underlying irritation in the other woman's voice. "No, this is - overwhelming," she said. "I-I'm sorry, I'm just a little lost in all of this."

Sif crossed her arms in front of her defensively, but the way Jane nervously bit her lip as she stared back at the flames was evidence of her sincerity. "I suppose I would be even more 'lost' if I were in your position on Midgard. Your technology, vulgar manner and regard for one another, and your open lands would take some adjustment."

"'Adjustment?' This is still a weird dream. It doesn't even feel real to me yet."

"Perhaps acceptance will come with time," she said. She tapped her fingers on her arms. Part of her felt obligated to ease this woman's discomfort. She knew Thor would be pleased if they were to be friends, and it wouldn't hurt her station to gain her favor, should a marriage occur in the future. "What is it you think of our fair realm thus far?"

Jane smiled. "It's beautiful," she said adamantly, and Sif had no doubt of the truth in her description. "I've been here for less than an hour, but what I've seen is epic, romantic, and every bit as over-the-top as Thor is. It shouldn't surprise me; it _fits_ him."

Sif had difficulty understanding her idioms, but she was able to infer their meaning for the most part. "As your stay continues, you will find this to be even more accurate. There are many more ways in which both Thor and Asgard will exceed your expectations."

"I think so too," she responded. "I already feel like I know him better just by being here."

Jane's warm words had caused a knot of anxiety to form within Sif's stomach. Her eyes dropped and she cleared her throat, willing away some of the shadows of unkind thoughts that had begun to take root in her own mind about Jane's regard of Thor. "Your wardrobe has been filled with appropriate clothing. If I understood the arrangements correctly, a tailor will be here soon to improve their fit," she said, changing the subject in an effort to excuse herself. "I'll take my leave and prepare for tonight." Jane had no chance to thank her before she left quickly.

* * *

Several visitors appeared at her door that afternoon, all wishing to ensure she had everything she needed, and all of the comforts a woman and honored guest should have. Her quarters were now filled with flowers, baskets of sweet breads and fruits, and oils and perfumes for her skin; in the buzz of their delivery, the evening had come quickly. The tailor arrived late, but he promised her he worked efficiently. Most of the clothes in her closet seemed to be relatively casual fair in neutral tones with the exception of one deep blue item that had been set apart from the others.

The tailor had been the one to tell her she should dress formally for dinner, but when she donned her chosen garment, he looked strangely on it, though he made no verbal objection. She could find nothing wrong with it, and because of his silence, she held to her decision. Her earlier discussion with Sif had increased her level of comfort with Asgard, but the tailor's quiet judgment was detrimental to this. Still, she assumed it wouldn't hurt to dress as nicely as was possible, especially considering the condition of her clothes when she'd arrived.

She readied herself while he finished his alterations, combing her hair and putting it up so that it rested softly on her shoulder. She wondered how she would compare with the women of this place, but those thoughts did not linger long in her mind. If Thor could gain interest in her while she wore an old t-shirt and tattered jeans, he would certainly be impressed with her in the elegant clothes of his own people.

A knock at the door resounded through her chambers. Thor had arrived promptly to escort her to dinner. She was relieved and found her nerves calmed at the idea of walking into dinner with him as opposed to arriving alone. As they approached the dinner table, her breath caught in her throat and her confidence ebbed, but Thor's arm held her securely. It was strange that on Earth she may have chided herself for such overdependence on a man, or anyone else, for that matter. In this foreign realm, Thor's strength and presence was something for which she was suddenly very grateful.

The dining hall itself was very large, and so it was a while after they entered before anyone noticed them. Firelight cast a warm glow on the impressive array of food along the long table. It would be enough to feed a human army for weeks; the sheer abundance and wealth this displayed was more than what Jane could have imagined.

The gowns of the women were draped elegantly behind them, as were the cloaks of the men, their material pooling on the floor like spilled gold. There were many more guests than what she had expected, and every one of them was dressed in perfection without a hair out of place, merrily carrying on their independent conversations as they awaited the arrival of Thor and his guest. Jane looked on in wonder, feeling as though she'd stumbled into the meeting of the gods on Mt. Olympus. Mythology had become fact in less than a day.

"Welcome, Son," greeted Frigga. She rose from her seat and walked over to them. At her signal, all those at the table also rose. Thor bowed in return and motioned for them to sit and continue with their discussions.

"Thank you, Mother." He kissed her on her cheek.

"Your Highness," Jane said, bowing slightly.

Frigga smiled warmly, sympathetic to how uncomfortable she must feel. "I'm looking forward to knowing you better," she said to Jane, taking her hands. "Please be not offended by Odin's absence tonight. He's been very busy lately, and rarely attends these sort of things."

"Of course," she replied with a smile.

In absence of Odin, Thor's seat was at the head of the table, Jane was to his right and his mother at his left, Sif was next to the guest's seat, and the Three were in subsequent seats on either side. Guests whom Jane didn't know filled the rest of the table and guessing by their distance, they were not as close to him as the friends she had already met. Oddly, there was an empty chair next to Frigga, but before the seat Fandral occupied. Jane opened her mouth to ask who would be joining them, since the empty chair was so close to the head of the table, but before she could speak, Thor stood and the conversations around the table stopped.

"Friends, thank you for joining me to welcome our new guest. I'll not delay your merriment, or deny Volstagg's appetite for long," he paused for a few chuckles from the table and a feigned gasp of protest from his hearty peer, "but I will ask you to raise a glass to welcome Jane Foster to our realm. May this be the beginning of a long and fruitful relationship with our new friend, and with our allies on Earth."

Many "here, heres" could be heard around the table, along with the clinking of their glasses and goblets. Jane smiled subtly at Thor, understanding the meaning of his words. As she turned to Sif to offer her cup, she noticed the other woman's stare was fixed on the empty seat in front of her, a troubled look in her eyes.

"Are we waiting for someone else?" Jane asked curiously. The party in Thor's immediate vicinity grew silent, and they all looked at Thor to respond.

He cleared his throat and put down the piece bread into which he'd just bitten. "That is where my brother would normally sit," he answered, looking around at his four friends. "Anyone was welcome to take that chair in his absence."

"Your brother?" Jane asked, though she knew to whom he most likely referred.

"Asgard's Betrayer and the Enemy of Earth, Loki," Fandral nearly spat. "Normally, seats are left vacant to mourn the dead. My apologies, My Queen, but I wouldn't sit there because I believe it to be spoiled or cursed, as is anything he has touched in our kingdom."

His last words burned in Sif's ears and she looked up at him sharply, though she said nothing.

Frigga waved off his apology casually, but her downturned face implied it had affected her more than she let on.

"I agree," Hogan spoke in a rare word, "and I doubt you will find any of us willing to fill his chair at any soon point."

Thor frowned. He happened to glance toward Sif, who remained very quiet. He sighed and brushed his hair back with his hand. "Sif, I am sorry. If you wish to move, I understand."

Sif looked up at the concerned faces of her friends. Red appeared on her cheeks in both embarrassment and anger at their pity. She shook her head. "This chair is just fine."

Jane looked in confusion between Sif and Thor. Although she didn't ask, he offered her an answer. "Sif was recently attacked by Loki."

"In the vial, contemptible manner of a coward," Fandral added. "I wish next time that he attack you in person, so you might slay him outright. My apologies, My Queen."

Frigga sighed heavily, and fought against her urge to defend her son.

"May I request a change of subject?" Sif asked. "This is hardly the venue..."

"Agreed," Frigga spoke in relief, "and there are surely more pleasant things to discuss, presently."

Thor nodded, but silence stretched wide as no one volunteered a new topic. Sif's anger still burned, as did Fandral's bitterness and Frigga's sadness. Jane became distinctly aware that her visit may not have coincided well with various happenings, but the others were reticent to share anything further, and she didn't feel comfortable asking.

"So," Volstaff started, "what exactly do you do on Earth? I have heard warriors are scarce there. How is it you fill your time?"

Relief washed over Jane and the rest of the party and Thor gave his friend a silent nod of gratitude. "I'm an astrophysicist." The entire party looked questioningly at her with the exception of Sif, so Jane explained. "I study the stars, space, and their scientific rules."

"You study the stars - like a fortune teller?" Volstagg asked.

"Well, no," she answered with a laugh. "I look at how space _works_ and why it behaves the way it does."

"Jane proved the existence of the Rainbow Bridge before she ever knew it existed," Thor said.

"Not exactly," she said. "Einstein-Rosen bridges have been thought to exist for a while. I was just gathering evidence to support my own theories regarding their nature and temper. Thor was the one who really opened my theory to my peers. It's the first time a wormhole theory had been proven so concretely - and the proof literally fell from the sky into my lap."

"…and then you hit it with your car," Thor added.

Jane laughed delightfully; though the others didn't entirely understand the context, they knew just enough about what had happened to find its humor and chuckled politely as well.

As the night progressed, the Asgardians were introduced to many more of Earth's nuances, including the many different sciences, cultures, and languages held within her world. Jane also took some time to explain exactly how much of a stir Thor's appearance and the display of his power had caused. He fell upon false humility, but the others knew him well enough to know he was pleased that he had garnered the adoration of so many, even if it meant he attracted skepticism and distrust from others.

Though Jane spent much of the night talking, her ears were also graced by the stories of Asgard and the Asgardians' manner of speech. Thor didn't seem to mind his friends' focus on their past, as he hoped Jane would be impressed by such tales. She was, though not completely in the way he had intended. Their recounts of monsters and battles made her feel even more a part of a fairytale, and increased the surreal sense of this new environment.

Sif listened intermittently. Though she always enjoyed the retelling of these stories, despite knowing them well, her thoughts had been pulled in several directions and she was thoroughly distracted. Still, she had done her best to wear a pleasant façade. She laughed at the appropriate times and made eye contact with their guest, asking her occasional questions to prove she was listening. It wasn't until the beginning of a particularly familiar story that her name was mentioned and she became intently focused on what was being said.

"…the time Sif picked a fight with a perfectly innocent lake serpent. The poor creature had been nesting nearby, not bothering a single person, when Sif decided she _must_ defeat it," Thor spoke with an overdramatic weight on the appropriate words. "Still a hotheaded youth, she was in far more trouble than she realized. Luckily, Loki and I were training nearby. Just as the serpent had her in its grips, Loki froze the lake solid, trapping it in ice so I could dispatch it."

"We were _all_ a bit foolish back then - merely teenagers in your terms," Fandral interjected.

"Yes, but I'm still completely baffled to this day as to why you attacked such a peaceful monster," Thor said, looking towards Sif with a mirthful smile on his face. "What were you trying to accomplish in such a _valiant_, but foolish attempt?"

Sif mustered a smile despite the embarrassment of the story. She had just returned from the forced excursion her parents had sent her on in the attempt to rid her of her vanity and hone her skills and focus as a warrior. After years away from home, she had returned to find her feelings for him were just as strong as they had been when she left. She had succeeded in gaining entrance into the academy, but she still felt the need to prove herself worthy to both Thor and Odin, to catch their eye as a potential wife for the prince, so that she would be one step ahead of a challenger, should one appear. Her intention was to earn his attention and respect, something that winning the head of a lake serpent would certainly accomplish. It was one of many attempts, some more successful than others, but the fact that he had to come to her rescue when she failed was particularly damaging to her pride.

"I guess I was bored," she joked casually. The others chuckled; she had pulled off the illusion well. In normal circumstances, the retelling of this tale did not bother her, as she had been brash, stupid, and careless at the time, and their group of friends often mocked each other's battlefield mistakes. These were not normal circumstances, however, and the friendly barb stung too much.

Thor was a little drunk at this point, and had been furiously trying to impress and entertain his visitor, so Sif tried hard not to hold his poor choice of words against him. However, even as the group changed topics, a knot reappeared in her stomach that would not disappear. She suddenly excused herself, giving some poorly-constructed explanation that the room had grown too hot for her.

No one thought anything of it, or made any objection, but Frigga didn't miss the look on her face when she left. "I think I could use some air as well," she said, standing up to follow.

She found her on the patio just outside of the dining hall, overlooking the city. Her eyes were fixed on some distant, vague point, her mouth set in a frown.

"For which son shall I apologize first?"

Sif turned toward Frigga at the sound of her voice and bowed slightly. "My Queen," she said in a formal greeting, "I'm not certain what you mean. You owe no apology for the sake of Loki's actions - and Thor has committed no offense against me."

Frigga took her hand and lifted the woman's chin so she could see her face despite the shadows of the dark night. Her eyes were glassy and lacked her normal confidence; her cheeks had a blush of red, betraying her emotions despite her stoic expression. "Lady Sif, I, along with the rest of Asgard, have always admired your strength and fortitude. Every so often, even the strongest of us must show weakness for our own sake; no one would think anything less of you."

Sif nodded, but her expression did not change and Frigga doubted she had really listened to her. "I am truly sorry for what Loki did to you. I have been his advocate since he arrived, for no one else will stand for him, and he will do nothing to help himself. What he has done to you… don't think my motherhood has blinded me from this trespass against you. I will not defend it, and will think twice before trying to protect him from now on."

"Thank you for your consideration," she started, "but I am accustomed to Loki's ways and I will deal with his intrusion in time in my own mind."

"And what of Thor?"

Sif sighed and looked back out at the city below. "I will deal with that in time as well. I would like you to know that your son's happiness means as much to me as mine. Jane Foster _is_ a human worth granting this opportunity to - and I will not interfere with it, wherever it may lead."

Frigga smiled and put her hand on her shoulder. "It warms my heart to know you feel this way, despite the love I know you still feel for him. If this new love should fail, I still hope for reconciliation between you two; if it does not, I hope you'll find the life you deserve. Nevertheless, always remember the favor you've garnered within the house of Odin. If there is something I can grant you to make this time easier, don't hesitate to ask. I know Odin will honor this as well."

Water gathered in her eyes, though it didn't spill over onto her cheeks. "My Gracious Queen, I thank you." She put her arm over her heart and bowed low.

Frigga nodded in return. "Well," she said in a sigh, "I think I shall take my leave of this party. It grows late and I can hardly keep up with you and your peers." Just as she said this, the table inside erupted with laughter. Sif looked back towards the dining hall, but made no move to return to the table. "Shall I tell them you're still catching your breath?" the queen asked. Sif nodded and smiled softly.

Only a few moments passed before the sound in the other room lessened and many of the people who were sitting at the table had gotten up to leave, spurred naturally by the queen's excuse of her own presence. Sif could see the attendants clearing food and dishes from the table from her vantage point, so she went back into the room to collect her cloak, which she had left behind. Thor and Jane were the only ones still sitting. He had a lock of her hair in his fingers, and her eyes were fixed on him, a warm pink glow on her skin, despite the comfortable smile on her lips. Sif watched them for a moment, trying to decide whether she should say goodnight or leave quietly, but they were too consumed with each other to notice her presence. He whispered something in her ear and stood to leave, but Jane remained behind.

Sif grabbed her cloak and turned away, opting to save herself from conversation. Jane smiled at her lazily, the red of her skin betraying her inebriation. Sif sought to leave, but her conscious won over better judgment. "Are you alright?" she asked.

Jane chuckled. "Yeah, I'm _fine_," she answered with a little too much inflection. "Your wine is - very _strong_."

"Do you need help finding your room? The palace can be very confusing, even while sober."

Jane shook her head and struggled with her faculties for a moment. "No - thanks," she said. "Thor said he would help me to bed when he gets back."

Sif sighed quietly. "I'm sure he will."

Jane rubbed her temple with her fingers. "I didn't think I had that much to drink - one glass, maybe. It's definitely different than anything we have on Earth," she said. Continuing in a whisper, she added, "that's such a weird thing to say - '_on Earth_.'"

"I'm sure you will discover many differences while you're here. I imagine our culture may take some time to get used to."

Jane nodded. "I've been trying to blend in, but - I think I might have done something wrong with my dress. The people at the other end of the table kept talking about it; I could hear them."

Sif pursed her lips, wondering if she should offer her explanation, or let it go and hope she learned from another source. "It wasn't the garment itself, it was the color." Jane looked at her incredulously and Sif's patience began to wane. "That shade of blue, and other colors of such intensity, are usually reserved for those of noble or royal blood, or honored warriors of high office. By wearing it on your first night, you offered quite the statement - and it did notgo ignored."

Jane looked down at the silky material in her lap. Her mind cleared as her sobriety began to return, but her blush lingered. "I - it was hanging in my closet. The tailor said to dress formally and it was the only thing that _seemed _right. How was I supposed to know?"

Sif closed her eyes and crossed her arms. She smiled wryly, but it was accompanied by an expression of injury Jane didn't miss. "You _couldn't_ have known within any reason for a stranger of Asgard. It appears the statement was entirely Thor's, as he was the one who ordered your closet stocked."

"What _statement?_"

"The statement that even though you weren't born into a station and you didn't _earn_ it through deeds and bravery, you are in a position above others." She spoke with a harsh tone, and Jane could hear a note of resentment in her voice, even though the other woman guarded her words carefully. "Thor has made it clear to us that you are to be treated as an honored guest. It should not have been a surprise that he would elevate you in such a way."

Jane had been so preoccupied with the happenings of that night and with her efforts to be charismatic and friendly that she had overlooked certain details regarding this warrior and her own appearance. Threads of orange and red were woven throughout her gown, hints of the "intense" colors she had mentioned, which played as evidence to her station. She was one of the few loyal friends who had committed treason in order to rescue Thor from his banishment. There was no doubt in Jane's mind that Sif had worked very hard to earn something she had just inadvertently patronized.

"I'm sorry," she said honestly.

Sif's expression softened as she saw the sincerity in Jane's visage. "Thor has every right and authority to grant such tokens of honor. It isn't my place to question his judgment."

Jane stood from her seat to make room for the attendants clearing the dishes. She played with her fingernails nervously, biting her lip. "I've been here for less than day and I've already screwed up. Is there anything else I should know? Preferably _before_ I accidentally cause a war?"

"There are _many _things about our realm and culture you will want to learn. It would behoove you to develop one of our favored skills as well, such as weaponry or healing, so that you can contribute to the wellbeing of our people. You will have many years to learn, however - and your strangeness will excuse most misunderstandings for the time being."

"Could I learn any of that in a few weeks?"

"I... a few weeks?" Sif asked in confusion. "What will happen then?"

"I'll be going back to Earth. I was lucky enough to find the time I have," Jane answered casually. "Research grants don't exactly provide for many vacations."

Sif stuttered in surprise. "I-I was under the impression your visit would be a long-term stay."

"Thor would like it to be," Jane started, "but I can't just leave everything hanging at home, no matter how much he wants me to be here."

Sif should have been relieved to hear this, but her impatience with this mortal doubled. She had no concept of what an honor she had been granted, or how truly thin the strand was that held the possibility of her relationship with Thor in place. She clenched her fists, but controlled her tone carefully as she spoke, "Do you not know of what Thor had to go through to bring you here?"

Jane paused, "He said it wasn't easy, but..."

"He directly opposed his father and some of his strongest allies in this matter. Asgard has been split in two regarding whether or not you should even be welcomed here. If marriage was ever considered, it could incite the people against Thor," she explained. "He has used his favor with Odin and his people as collateral against the wager that you might choose to stay here and prove yourself worthy of him. No, it _wasn't easy._"

Jane took an instinctive step back, intimidated suddenly by the warrior that had revealed herself in Sif's eyes. "I'm sorry, but that isn't my fault. We just started seeing each other. I thought this was just supposed to be an introduction - so I could meet everyone. Thor promised he would take me back whenever I wanted and I assumed that meant..."

"You assumed incorrectly and Thor did not share the entirety of the truth," she said firmly. "This is your chance - his only opportunity to show everyone why you should be together and if you're worth the trouble that will ensue from his pursuit of you. If you lose it, you will not earn it back, and Asgard may not let you set foot here again no matter what he wants."

Jane was completely disheartened by Sif's words and it showed in her expression. "That's - a lot of pressure," she said in nearly a whisper. "I'm not sure I can…"

"He may not say it, but if you leave so soon, you will break his heart," she explained. As she spoke, her throat tightened; there was more than impatience and anger behind her tone. Her feelings were interwoven with what may or may not happen between Jane and Thor. A seed was planted in Jane's mind, and she began to see another dimension to Sif's care for Thor. "I cannot stand for one who would so easily abandon him for whatever obligations you may hold to within your own realm. If you are content to leave so soon, then I beg of you, leave _now_ before it gets worse and you cause more harm."

Jane opened her mouth to argue despite the sincerity of Sif's warning, but couldn't find the words; she didn't have to.

"Sif..." he spoke lowly. His voice sounded behind her and she turned immediately to face him. His eyes were narrowed beneath his furrowed brow, his lips laced with an intense frown. "Jane, give us a few moments, please."

She looked uneasily at Sif and then back at Thor. "I think I'll just go back to my room. It's been a long day." He nodded, his expression softening slightly as she walked by and momentarily placed her hand on his arm.

"What are you doing, Sif?" he asked, attempting to stay calm. "Why would you say such things to her, knowing how it would compromise her decision to stay with me?" She granted him no explanation or argument at first. The hurt in his eyes choked the words from her throat. "Are you trying to hurt me on purpose? Have you become jealous or possessive, after all that has happened between us?"

His words stung like thorns in her skin. Disbelief filled her eyes. "We have known each other since the turning of the age - and we have loved each other for longer than she has lived. That you would accuse me of..."

"Then why did you speak to her with such words?! Why did you tell her to leave?!" he asked in a sudden shout, his voice like a roar as it echoed against the walls of the hall. "You've undermined everything I've been trying to accomplish by bringing her here. You cast doubt into her heart and if she returns to Earth tomorrow, it will be entirely your fault." He took a deep breath and thought of his next words. "What you have done is - treacherous."

"Th..." her words died on her tongue as water blurred her vision. She turned her back towards him to preserve her dignity, but her effort most likely betrayed it to his eyes regardless. "You have offered her Asgard and all of the realms beneath it and she won't grant you more than a few days of her time. I've trusted your judgment until this point, but - what is so worthy in her that you've deemed it necessary to place your heart in such a wager that you're sure to lose?"

He sighed and stepped closer to her. She had hoped his anger had diminished, but although his next words were softer, they stung just as badly. "What I do with my heart has been no concern of yours since the day you cancelled our betrothal. If you still love me, you will leave my business to me. I care for your friendship, but I will not have you compromise this. If necessary, I will send you off world for the remainder of her stay."

"What I said was meant for the good of Asgard and its prince," she started in argument. As the words left her mouth, she realized the futility of it. Even if he was sober, her appeal would only fall on ears deafened by new love. She lowered her eyes and set her jaw. "I will do what you wish."

"What I wish is for you to keep distance in this matter," he said sharply, "for regardless of your intentions, your words have injured me and confused her. I have been scarred by false counsel too often recently, Sif. First, my brother and his lies and now your thoughtless advice to her..."

"Do _not_ compare my concern for you with Loki's treachery," she said abruptly, shocked and wounded that he would bring Loki's name into this, considering his recent attack against her.

He sighed. "No, his sins may have done more harm, but your words marked my heart and came from a place I thought to be trustworthy above all others. In these terms, you are no better."

She wiped her face and looked back up at him, her stoicism returned to its full strength. Her features was set as stone, her eyes sharp as blades. He'd seen this expression on her many times when she drew her sword against an enemy, but he had rarely been the target of it himself and it caused a dull ache to form within his gut. "I will follow your will, Thor," she said quietly. He would have preferred to hear some sense of dryness or insult within her tone, but her inflection was steady and her voice was strong. For some reason, this caused him to feel the first semblance of regret for his harshness. "I will distance myself from this matter and will remain silent on the issue."

His eyes fell and the fog of his own inebriation began lifting from his mind, but before he could offer a reply, retort, or apology of any sort, she left the room.

* * *

The long hallways of the palace seemed especially barren and cold in the late hour as she walked the great distance from the dining hall to the front gate. The heels of her shoes echoed throughout the empty corridor and provided the only sound in her lonely trek down the levels and halls of the palace. The guards near the door greeted her, but she hid her face behind her loose hair as much as she could and did not reply, hoping they would mistake her pink complexion and red eyes for fatigue or drunkenness. They said nothing further, and seemed not to notice, letting her out the large wooden door without question.

The guards at the stable were surprised that she had come to retrieve her horse at such a dark hour, but offered nothing more than a pleasant greeting. Normally, a late night at the palace would result in her staying in one of the guest apartments. She was welcomed by everyone there, and needed not even to ask for such a resource within the palace walls. Tonight, however, she felt that welcome was not open to her. She mounted her horse, and despite the chill in the air and the dark of midnight, began to walk down the road to her own apartment.

…_false counsel_. She could still hear the words on his sharp tongue, their volume and impact increased by the smothering silence in the air around her.

Thor had compared her efforts to those of Loki's, an insult beyond measure that wounded her far more than he would ever realize. Her intention was not to deceive or manipulate anyone. She'd only impressed upon Jane the importance of her presence, and had nearly begged her to consider staying longer, or revealing her uncertainty sooner in order to avoid hurting the one they both loved. He had overheard the worst part of her confrontation without context, and though she didn't know how long he'd been listening, she was sure he'd missed the comment from Jane that had incited her anger in the first place. He thought Sif a jealous ex-lover who enjoyed interfering in his affairs, but he had forgotten that it was he who had first sought her opinion on a relationship with a mortal, and on Jane herself. What had changed to make her insight suddenly so worthless to him, she wasn't sure, but she had the impression the wine was of little blame.

The horse Sif was riding clopped along on the stony path very leisurely. In the midst of her distraction, she didn't notice her slowing pace. She pulled her dagger from the sheath on her saddle. The mirror-like surface of the well-polished blade and the light of the sky allowed her to see her reflection as she reverted to her childhood vanity. Her face looked fair in the pale light of the stars, but her eyes were still slightly puffy from her hidden tears, which seemed to emphasize the barely-discernible lines around her mouth and on the outside of her eyes. Jane was young, new, and different; Sif had been such a prominent figure in his life for so long, it was no wonder he should push her aside so easily. She put away the mirror in frustration; perhaps she was lying to _herself_ when she denied her jealousy.

Sif was not without reason and in the midst of self-doubt and confusion, she had several sober thoughts. Jane and Thor would face a number of challenges in their relationship that may force the truth regarding Jane's reservations to the surface. Even if Jane was willing to leave her life and pledge herself to Asgard, there were still trials she would have to pass, of which she stood a Frost Giant's chance in Muspelheim in winning. Plus, Sif's friendship with Thor had lasted too long for him to abandon it on such a whim. They had been through tests such as this before and yet remained as closely bonded as any friends. This should be no different, and there would come a time when they would each forgive the words they said to each other.

…_false counsel._ The words echoed in her mind again, stealing these comforting thoughts from her mind.

Even in the context of love and deep friendship, there were occasionally words exchanged that could be forgiven, but not so easily forgotten. He had implied she had lost his trust, and what other words he had spoken would likely be etched in her memory, to be recalled in quiet moments and dreams when she least suspected it.

Her horse neighed and huffed in complaint and she suddenly remembered where she was, not even outside of the palace grounds yet. She had no appetite to sleep, and wondered if a horseback ride through the hills would burn away some of the unpleasant energy that was causing her heart to pound within her chest. Just as she began to make up her uncertain mind, something caught her peripheral vision. Down the slope of the path, in quite a distance, but still within the palace's land, a light through a window had gone out, as though someone had just extinguished their lamps in this late hour.

"Loki…" she whispered through her teeth. The frustration toward everything that had happened that night suddenly blurred with her anger over what he had done to her, to her friends, and to Thor, the memories of her past intermingling with the pain that she now felt in a nonsensical haze of rage. She tightened her reigns and prodded the horse's rear with her heel, trotting towards his quarters.

As Loki was confined by strong magic, the guards didn't need to watch so carefully as they had while he was in his cell. He was almost completely cut off from his greatest assets, and couldn't so much as touch the outside walls of his apartment without feeling the sting of the barriers they had customized to him and him alone. The guards in front of his chambers were superfluous and seemed to recognize it. They were huddled around their fire and only briefly looked up at the approach of her horse; they didn't seem to notice or care about her abnormal state of dress, or that she entered his chambers.

His quarters were completely darkened, just as they had been the other night when she had visited him. Despite the fact that her eyes were adjusted to the shade of the starry sky, she had trouble seeing her way. She turned left and felt for the table on the side of the living area, moving along the wall as she went towards his bedroom. However, unlike her last visit, he wasn't asleep, or in his bed.

"Have you forgotten how to knock?" he suddenly asked. "Or have I lost those rights as well?"

She was startled and pulled her dagger in reflex, pointing it in his direction. As her eyes adjusted further to the low light, she could see him hanging from a metal bar near his far wall. "What are you..?" she asked in confusion.

He released the bar and fell the short distance to the soft carpet. He straightened his tunic and ran his hand through his hair. "Exercising."

"In the dark?" she asked skeptically.

His eyes narrowed. "It helps me concentrate - and I've come to _enjoy_ the dark after spending so much time in the bowels of Asgard. Any other questions, Sif?" His voice was low and calm, though she could tell he was bothered by her unannounced company.

She kept her eyes on him and sheathed her weapon. "No," she said earnestly. Her will to confront him, to fight, and to place blame had diminished suddenly with his slow approach. "I saw your light go out. Considering the hour, I was making sure all was well."

"Oh, I don't think so," he said with a light chortle, seeing through her poorly-constructed lie.

She glowered at his accusation, even though his suspicions were right. "Go back to your exercises." She turned to exit, but as she reached for the handle to his front door, he closed his distance between them and put his hand up against the jam to keep her from opening it. She struggled against his strength for a moment, but despite the drain he felt on his energy as he touched the door, he leaned against it, holding the advantage of angle.

She gave up and rested her forehead against the wood of the door. He was very close; his breath stirred the hair on her shoulder despite his mask, and she could smell the faint, lingering scent of leather on his skin, even though he wasn't wearing his armor. A memory, dim and faded from time, resurfaced from her dreams - the sensation of his hand travelling around her waist and up her side as his lips explored her neck; the pleasant weight of him pressing against her; and the sound of his shallow, quick breathing in her ear.

Heat rose to her face, mixing with the blush of her anger. This was the man who had inspired such cynicism in Thor that he would assume the worst in _her_ at one moment of question. It was because of Loki's actions that Thor was sent to Earth and met Jane. None of this would have happened if it weren't for his schemes and games; the fault was entirely his. Her anger renewed, she turned to face him.

He was just as close as she had sensed he was, his face mere inches from her own. She backed against the door to buy as much distance as she could, but it did not afford her much. His eyes briefly drifted to her lips, but quickly moved up, fiercely meeting her own stare.

"What is the _real_ reason you're here? Why did you barge in to my home, dressed as though you're fresh from a ball?" As he spoke in his deep, curious voice, his hand went up to the strap of her gown and he ran the silky material through his fingers. Recollection seemed to cause a rude realization in his own mind. He suddenly straightened his posture and backed away, walking back down to the carpeted, central living room.

The sudden cold in the air caused by his leaving created great dissonance within her. She was still furious with him, and her anger had only increased that night as his previous actions once again indirectly caused her great hardship. At the same time, there was something in his eyes and his touch that had temporarily dulled her pain, and for just a moment, his attention to her had eclipsed the reason she had come and the words of Thor.

_Your greatest desire is _to be _desired_. His earlier words rang through her mind, the truth of it never more obvious to her than it was at that moment. She felt foolish, but the heat that had rushed to her head had not ebbed from her.

"Did you come to confront me again? Is that also why you crept into my private quarters while I slept without permission or announcement a few nights ago?"

"Yes," she answered honestly, slowly following him into the living area and stopping only a few paces from him, "but you have no room to judge me for such an intrusion. I'd hardly call us even."

He chuckled dryly. "Perhaps we should schedule a standing appointment - if you plan on coming by so often."

"Your deeds deserve my suspicion and criticism," she argued. She wished he would returned to his earlier tactics, which had lightened the stone in her stomach for a brief moment. A growing part of her hoped the confidence in the instigation he displayed in her dreams would carry over to real life, though it appeared he was much more assured of himself in an environment he could control, within reach of his magic. "You have given me many reasons for cynicism."

Without a word, he crossed his arms and turned towards her, refusing to enter into another argument that would only reiterate what had already been said. In the darkness, she could see his blue eyes hesitantly and slowly drift down her form. Initially, she fought the temptation to tighten her cloak and hide it from him, but as the heat in her face spread down and around her body, she found herself desiring something quite different and relishing the hunger revealed in his features. Instead of fastening her cloak, she allowed it to slip from her shoulders and threw it carelessly on the couch beside her.

His brow knitted in confusion. "Maybe we should settle our differences like in the old days and have a good spar," he said as he seemed to ignore the motion; she was growing weary of this dance. "Of course, I'd have you take off my mask, so I might have a sporting…"

His words were interrupted as she spun on the ball of her foot and kicked him hard in the back of the knees. He was not prepared for the sudden assault, and fell backwards on the soft rugs as his head slammed back into the floor. "What in the nine…?" he angrily snapped.

She stepped over him, one foot on either side of his waist. His complaints died on his tongue as she pulled her skirt up to her knees, and slowly settled herself onto his lap. An involuntary groan escaped his throat as her hips rested against his, but his faculties slowly returned and he sat up, holding the back of her legs so she would not leave this welcomed position.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice already rough and broken by the blood that had suddenly surged in his veins.

She smiled insecurely and changed her posture. While her weight still rested pleasantly against him, her body grew closer until he could feel the warmth from her form. "Do you still desire me?" she asked quietly, meeting his eyes with an expression he had never seen outside of her dreams.

His eyes traversed her lips and traveled down as his hands slipped beneath the folds of her skirt and up her thighs. His breathing and the beating of his heart accelerated within his chest. If she was hoping to tease him, there was no lie or illusion that could convince her it hadn't really worked at this point. Though his body had eagerly responded to her, he was hesitant to grant her such an answer with his mouth and lose whatever little game she seemed to be playing with him.

"Answer," she demanded.

He sighed in an attempt to calm his blood and met her eyes with his, pausing the slow, cautious exploration of his hands. "_Yes_," he said, resentful of his own weakness, "but I don't _trust_ you. How do I know you won't claim this was another unprovoked attack?"

She tilted her head and kissed his neck. His breathing became ragged as her teeth grazed the distinctively male prominence on his throat. He could feel her hands pulling at his tunic, un-tucking it from his belt. In one movement, he removed the material himself. "You don't," she said against his skin, running her hand slowly down the center of his chest.

He seemed to fight within himself for a moment, flesh battling reason in a futile struggle, for he knew he would lose either way. "Take off the mask," he ordered. She paused and looked at him skeptically. "I'll only play along if I can taste you."

She hesitated, knowing this wasn't true. His hands had returned to her legs, pushing the material to her waist. He would be a willing participant either way, but considering the extra security on his quarters, and the fact that he was surely captive to this new development for the moment, she saw little harm in it. Slowly, she reached up and released the device that held the mask in place, revealing his pale lips. He moved towards her, but as his mouth nearly reached hers, his lips parted and he stopped. "What exactly are the rules of this game?" he asked.

"We can discuss those later," she said. She moved forward, taking his lips with hers before he could speak again.

Her fingers roughly raked through his black hair as she pulled him closer, scraping his scalp and causing a pleasant chill down his spine. The straps of her dress slipped from her shoulders as he pushed the material down to her waist, nearly ripping the fine garment in the process. A gasp escaped her lips unguarded as he suddenly, almost violently, shifted his weight, rolling them over so that he rested on top of her.

They parted for a moment, just long enough for him to pull the material from her hips and remove it completely. Once again, his eyes met hers briefly and through his knitted brow, she could see within them the many questions that were poised on the edge of his tongue, though he was unwilling to ask them for fear it would suddenly spoil her spontaneity. Her soft curves beckoned him forward, but the taste of wine on her lips, her formal garb, and the red he could barely see in her eyes caused his suspicious nature to hinder his body's pull towards hers. She could sense his insecurity and wrapped her legs around his, bringing him even closer as evidence to her adamancy.

He needed no further argument or permission. As his mouth claimed her throat and began travelling around her neck, she moaned and closed her eyes, turning her head to give him encouragement and a better angle. Her expression held a dream-like sense, as though she allowed her imagination to free herself from him.

"No," he said suddenly, pulling her chin back so that she faced him again. "You're with _me_." His voice dripped with an almost angry desperation and she understood his meaning. He sighed in frustration as he tried to work up the fortitude to stop should she provide him with an response he didn't want to hear.

"I know," she whispered lowly.

His brow softened and he smiled genuinely. For a moment, she saw a glimpse of the boy she'd known, before the monster took his place. She said nothing to this effect, and as his hands and mouth continued to explore her skin, she set it out of her mind completely, along with thoughts of Thor and the events of that night.

* * *

He awoke in his own room and in his own bed, but despite its familiarity, there was something distinctly foreign and new about his surroundings. A source of heat radiated from the body lying next to him, filling his bed with more gentle warmth than he had felt in a very long time. In the fog of his fatigue, he was initially bothered by this strange company; he wasn't used to sharing his space and he valued his time alone. As his mind cleared, he remembered who was next to him, and any desire for solitude disappeared.

He gently turned onto his side so he was facing her, careful not to disturb the mattress with his movements. Her back was to him, the expanse of her pale, white skin visible in the light from his window. Her side rose and fell in even rhythm as she apparently slept and he debated whether he should wake her or allow her to stay as long as her body would allow.

The contours of her form and the curves of her hips and legs beckoned the caress of his fingers. He resisted this urge out of uncertainty, for he didn't know if his touch would be welcomed after her blood had cooled.

While he kept his hands to himself, he allowed his eyes to study her carefully - the way her shiny hair cascaded across his pillow, the tone and shape of her back, and the imperfections of her skin. He examined all of the scars he could see, digging through his memory as he looked, in order to see if he'd known or caused any of them himself during the few short years when they'd trained together.

He inched closer to her, allowing himself to indulge in her scent and the warmth from her body. The softness of her ebony hair tempted him, and he ran his fingers down its length to the tips. Though this light touch would've been imperceptible, she suddenly sighed and turned on her back.

"It's freezing in here," she said, staring up at the ceiling as she pulled his single sheet over her chest.

"Well, I don't often have visitors - and _I'm_ comfortable." He moved closer again, and hesitantly placed his hand on her stomach, grazing her shoulder with his lips.

She turned her head, searching his eyes with a furrowed brow as though she were trying to process who it was lying next to her. His stare met hers, and in defiance of her obvious uncertainty, he moved his attentions to her collar bone as his hand reached towards her chest to remove the sheet. She pulled his hand away, and with a groan of discomfort, sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed.

"I should leave."

He also sat up and pressed himself against her back, kissing her neck and running his hands up her arms and shoulders. She didn't dismiss him or pull away. His skin, so much warmer than it had been in her dreams, felt pleasant against her back; his ministrations temporarily treated the holes that had been ripped in her ego earlier that night.

"What is your cause for such hurry?" he asked, his low voice vibrating in her ear. "The morning sun will bring with it sober thoughts; you will have plenty of time for regret. For now, we should share this illusion for a little longer, so we can lick each other's wounds."

"Who said I'm wounded?" she asked defiantly.

He sighed impatiently. "There are not many forces in Yggdrasil that could have driven you here. Whatever idiotic thing Thor said or did to inspire your anger to such a degree that you would seek solace with _me_ - it must have been quite serious - and I don't lie by admitting I hope he does it again."

He moved his arm around her waist and she didn't try to remove it, but placed her hand on top of his in encouragement as he traversed her abdomen. She appeared to consider his words and so he smiled and returned his lips to her shoulder. She sighed pleasantly, her breath increasing in volume and rate as she leaned back into his embrace.

"But my thoughts are sober, even now; this was a grave mistake," she said, her voice cracking as she pulled his arm away. "It isn't too soon for regret, for I have betrayed my family, Asgard, - and Thor."

He backed away from her abruptly, his distance creating a vacuum and a rush of cold air around her. "_Thor?_" he spat maliciously. "The man who would take the next opportunity to pollute his blood with a Midgardian? What loyalty do you owe him that would be so betrayed by sharing my bed for one night? You are not wed to him."

"It isn't like that," she argued. "You are his enemy, and his brother - and you have scarred him more deeply than any weapon wielded against him ever has or could. If you were any other man perhaps this wouldn't be an issue worth…"

He chuckled wryly, interrupting her words. "If I were any other man, you would not have had me; you would still be content in your silent pursuit - loving him unconditionally like a dumb animal. It is only because I am who I am and have done what I've done against him that you've sought these comforts and arms of mine instead of patiently and _fruitlessly_ awaiting an invitation back to his."

"You misunderstand my love for him; you think only in context of my role as his subject. My love is not unconditional for him as a man. This love can falter as it is stretched and tested," her voice grew quiet and her head dropped, "as it was tonight."

He paused for a moment, her admission catching him by surprise. "So then I am correct? You stayed with me in order to hurt him."

She looked behind her shoulder. "I stayed to _forget _him, even if only for a short time…" Her brown eyes met his stony blue ones, and a small grin graced his thin lips. "… but I suppose you may be partially right," she said, "though I have no desire to tell him and therefore, it seems to have served no cure or benefit."

"It didn't?" he asked. A note of humor laced his tone; she understood his meaning and heat rose to her face and neck.

"None of any permanent advantage," she answered.

"At least we're being honest," he said snidely.

She stood and tore the sheet from under the mattress, wrapping it around herself for her walk out to his living area to retrieve her clothes. Her attempt at modesty at this point confused him, and he made no move to cover himself.

"Despite the release it granted us and any good it caused, it was still a mistake to come here. I lost control of my own faculties tonight over a cause that makes me so ashamed, I cannot speak of it. Do not expect me to be so weak again."

She left his bedside and walked into the living area. He followed, stopping to lean against the door frame and crossing his arms in front of him as he watched her search for her discarded garment on the floor. She found it, but grew annoyed when he wouldn't leave and his eyes remained fixed on her as she dressed. Privacy was a ridiculous expectation in these circumstances, but even in the low light of the room, she could see his searching stare and the length of his own nude form, and it suddenly made her feel very exposed.

"Heimdall and Odin - could they have…" she started, her blood running cold with the sudden thought that her indiscretion would be discovered before she could seek to hide it.

"It is doubtful," he answered, predicting the rest of her question. "Heimdall's focus is drawn outward, searching for my allies; the magical seals around my house block the Allfather's sight, I believe. After all, if he could see past them so easily, why would Thor have assigned my guard to your fellow warriors?"

She sighed in relief. "You're probably right."

"I'm sorry my company has caused you such embarrassment," he said with undisguised irritation. She had been the instigator in this strange, lovely endeavor, but now her absurdly exaggerated sense of duty and undying loyalty for her undeserving prince had returned, cooling her flesh and encouraging her to take distance from him again.

She pulled her straps back up over her shoulders, and threw the sheet over to him. His words may have made her feel guilty over the carelessness of what she'd said, but his sarcastic smile served to rid her of any regret. "Some might view this as treason on my part."

"Loyal Sif? Commit treason against her king? _Never_," he dryly said.

She caught his meaning and rolled her eyes as she slipped her shoes back on her feet. She walked to the door, but as her hand touched the metal handle, she paused and turned back to say one more thing. "I realize I may be asking a lot from you, but would you refrain from telling anyone about this?"

He laughed lightly. "Would any in Asgard believe me? Your honor is well-preserved." She nodded and left without another word.

The guards in front of his door seemed not to notice or care that she'd left several hours after first arriving. She was relieved of this, though she could have thought of a reasonable enough excuse for her long stay. Her white horse neighed and huffed as she approached. She jumped on its back and rode swiftly to her apartment, content, at last, to sleep through the night.


	9. Chapter 9: Settling In

Strange visions filled her head while she slept. Soldiers with both human and animal traits fought against the giant, metal statues she had seen lining Asgard's halls and their golden king. The valiant lord fought hard, with only his staff by his side, on the crest of a green hill in the center of the field of battle. Light emanated from his armor and skin, shielding his face from her eyes. She couldn't count the number of his enemy that swarmed him, but he bested them all with his great strength.

Feeling as though she were being watched, she turned and found herself within sight of a beast with horns and a grotesque head upon his shoulders. His weapon was pointed at her neck as his eyes revealed his bloodlust. In a panic, she ran as fast as her legs would carry her towards the king, knowing somehow that he would be her refuge. Despite her efforts, she couldn't find him. Her view of the hill vanished and she could see it no longer amidst the sea of giants and beasts that fought around her. She knew she was lost and would not be saved, and so she picked up the tall, heavy spear of a fallen soldier and held the heavy piece in front of her as best as she could, facing her pursuer and his thirsty sword.

A knock at the door startled and woke her before she could see the outcome of the struggle, and as she opened her eyes, she was greeted by even more strange sights. Starlight glittered against the accents of her over-sized bed, and though the fire in the center of the room had died, the basin still hadn't cooled and glowed a faint, eerie red. Shadows of the beasts that had populated her nightmare seemed to be present in the darkness and as her heart slowed to normal, her mind fought to discern what was real and what was the product of night and fear. As her vision and thoughts cleared, she became aware of two things: her trip to Asgard had not been a strange dream, such as the one from which she had just woken - and she had a very bad headache.

The knock continued and with a grunt of annoyance, she found a robe to throw over her shoulders and stumbled through her room in the low light. "Coming - hold on," she called impatiently, wondering if this was simply another delivery of half-hearted tokens from the members of court who wished to leave a good impression with her.

She opened the door to find Thor on the other side, dressed without his armor, but with Mjolnir still strapped to his side; his hair was neat and soft, and his smile was bright and handsome. She cleared her throat awkwardly and ran a hand through her messy, knotted hair, suddenly aware of how she must look in contrast to his collected visage, especially considering it was early morning and he'd imbibed much more than she during dinner that night.

"I know the hour is early, but there is something I've been wanting to show you and I have not the patience to continue waiting." She looked at him skeptically. The hallway behind him was empty and silent; the one, high window in her quarters was filled still with the dark sapphire of midnight. "Please dress in something good for travelling - and put on a blindfold."

She scoffed at the absurdity of his request and was about to argue, but his eyes were hopeful and contained a hint of mischievousness; she found herself agreeing to the odd demand and smiling at the mystery surrounding his surprise. She closed her door and returned a few minutes later, dressed with a silk scarf around her eyes.

"Will you at least tell me where we're going?" she asked, wondering if he planned on walking her down the long corridors and stairs of the great palace in such a condition.

"The destination is of little importance - but you will be glad for this trouble when we arrive," he softly assured her. He took her arms and leaned down, wrapping them around his neck. She couldn't see, but she could feel his closeness as the whiskers on his cheek brushed her skin. She laughed nervously as his arms encircled her waist and he pulled her even closer. "Hold on tightly," he warned.

"When…?" she started, though it ended as a surprised yelp as they suddenly took off into the sky.

Her breath left her lungs as her head spun and the disorientation of flight disrupted her equilibrium. They landed only a few seconds later, but the feeling of the ground under her didn't cure her dizziness. Even though her feet were planted firmly, she stumbled when Thor released her, falling to the soft, plush grass of the hills beyond the city. Instead of standing again, she sat where she was and took her bag from her shoulder.

"Please tell me we're here."

Thor chuckled at the exasperated sigh that followed. "We are."

"Then can I take off the blindfold?"

"Almost," he said.

She leaned back on her arms and relaxed, expecting him to do or say something. When his silence persisted, she asked impatiently, "what are we waiting for?"

He sat down beside her, and when she felt the sensation of his warmth, she gratefully leaned into his shoulder, shielding herself from the chill of the morning. "We're waiting for the dawn," he casually explained. "You enjoy studying the stars - and you do so with wonder and appreciation, even though you have never been among them until now. The view of Yggdrasil from Earth is very beautiful, but it pales greatly to our own, especially at the sun's rise and fall. I wanted to be here when you first laid your eyes upon our sky."

"Since you've told me, can I take off the blindfold now?" she asked with a fond smile at his words. "And why are we waiting for the sunrise if you want me to see the stars?"

"I promise - just a moment or two longer and you will have your answer," he said with a laugh at her almost childlike eagerness. "I want you to see it first at its peak."

She could see the first rays of golden light through the material of her blindfold. She imagined and remembered some of the amazing skies she'd seen in her life, and silently wondered if he wasn't overselling it on purpose. It _would_ be interesting to see the stars from a different world - and she promised herself she would try to bring what equipment she could on future visits so she could record their constellations for study. That is, if electrical equipment could survive the dark energy they used for transport - and if they allowed her to return at all.

Shortly after, Thor untied the cloth around her eyes, revealing to her a scene she would never forget as long as she lived. Billions of stars, planets, and entire galaxies converged a blanket over Asgard, forming a myriad of light and color she could find no words to describe in any manner that would grant it due justice. The golden glow of the sun cast orange light on lower level clouds, but instead of washing out the beauty of the night sky, it added more dimension and color to the image.

Her breath caught in her throat as her mouth opened in awe. This held no comparison to Earth; it was as though the Aurora Borealis had appeared on the clearest night imaginable, bringing with it a view of the Milky Way and the galaxies and nebulae beyond it, and it was all emphasized by the most beautiful sunrise she'd ever seen. She once considered bringing a camera with her, but she had wondered if it would survive the journey and had feared the Asgardians would consider it disrespectful. It was a decision she would regret, for no matter who heard her retelling of this morning's story, they never understood or fully appreciated the description she offered in her own words.

The simple joy of the sight triggered her scientific mind. Oddly, the rising sun did _not _dim the light of the stars, raising a questions regarding the atmosphere surrounding Asgard. This led to other questions, such as how she was able to breathe there, how close they were to the nearest star, the stability of their weather patterns, and if they really resided on a plain instead of on the surface of a sphere, as Thor had once told her. There were too many questions on the tip of her tongue; too many to possibly be answered in one short lifetime, let alone the time of her visit. If Thor had shown her this as enticement to stay, he had done so wisely; all she could think about was how badly she wanted to observe it from her own equipment.

Thor laid his head in her lap and looked up at her with a beaming smile on his lips. "Jane - what are your thoughts?"

She looked down at him and ran a finger through his hair. "It's so - I can't even…"

He chuckled proudly. "It was worth the early rise, then?"

"Definitely," she said. She sighed again, but it was an expression born of astonishment and wonder. Her quarters, though large and comfortable, had only one small window, and she wondered if it was his intention to veil the sky to her eyes during her entire stay, so he could be sure to be with her when she was able to study it. Her thoughts drifted back to their time together on Earth and the night they spent on the rooftop of her makeshift laboratory. A smile crossed her lips and warmth filled her as she looked back down to his blue eyes. This seemed like something special to him, and so she would try to keep it so. "Can we do this together every morning?"

"I believe I can arrange that," he answered softly.

They stayed in that position for an hour, nearly completely silent as they enjoyed the view and the simple joy of each other's company. Jane ran her fingers through his soft hair and after a while, his breath began to fall evenly. She thought he had gone to sleep, but when she looked down, his eyes met hers and she saw the endless blue of the sky above them reflected in their depths. She smiled as something flipped within her chest. At that moment, she desired nothing more than to delay her return to Earth as long as she could, and she pushed all thoughts of the impending end to this adventure from her mind.

It wasn't until the sun was high in the sky and the warm breeze began to blow over the hills that Thor finally suggested they leave. "The best part has finished - unless you intend to stay until sunset," he joked.

"It's nice here," she said, closing her eyes to enjoy the star's light on her skin. "I know you probably have things to do, but - do I have to leave too?"

He was reluctant to tell her about the dangers the Asgardian hillside during the mating seasons of several of its indigenous species, but he was also unwilling to leave her without guard. He framed his response carefully, hoping she would understand its true meaning. "If you lived here, you could do this sort of thing often - and you could study our stars and teach us your science."

"Your people would tolerate me? I heard I've already caused some controversy just by being here. There's nothing like stirring the pot on your first night in a new world."

He laughed, a surprising response that caught her a bit off guard. "That nonsense regarding your clothes? That is standard fare for those in high-court, I'm afraid. It is said by some that you're never truly important until the gossiping hens of Asgard criticize your appearance or manner."

She chortled sardonically. "I guess Asgard and Earth are more alike than I thought."

"The people I care most for - my friends - have taken well to you. Even Hogan smiled last night, and believe me, that is a rare occasion to mark."

"_Most _of your friends," she corrected, her expression faltering slightly as she recalled the words of warning Sif had given her regarding Thor's effort to keep her there.

He sighed and sat up. "I owe you an apology for Sif. That sort of overreaction is not typical of her and I haven't a clue as to why she said what she did."

Jane took a deep breath, considering her options and the weight of the question on her tongue. "What is she - I mean - to _you_?"

A part of him hoped he had misunderstood her, but his eyes fell, knowing well what her objective was. He knew his answer would not be taken favorably, but he wished not to begin this new relationship with dishonesty. "A friend - a close one."

She nodded. She could infer the rest, but she wanted to hear his side of it. "Is that all?"

"Have my actions not proven my intentions towards you? Are there lingering doubts still within your mind?" he asked earnestly. "What worry could inspire such a question?"

She reached into her bag and pulled out a thick book. "Remember when we told you about the myths that were written on Earth about Asgard, you, and your family? I thought I should probably learn more about the stories, considering - well, _everything_ I've seen in the last year," she said with a strange smile, as though she still hadn't accepted her surroundings. "I know it's only myth and legend, but I_ was_ a little confused - when I saw the picture of your wife."

"This ought to be interesting," he said with a chuckle, "show me."

She opened the book to the marked page. The chapter cover featured an aged-looking man with a dramatic beard. He wouldn't have recognized himself if it hadn't been for the depiction of an over-sized Mjolnir in his right hand. He chuckled heartily at the artist's impression of him, but his laughter doubled when he looked down the page to see the image of an extremely muscular blonde woman with two braids on either side of her head and flowers in her hair.

"She's _frightening_," he said in his laughter. His concern disappeared completely. Jane certainly had nothing to worry about if _this_ was her chief competitor.

"She's Sif," she said.

His laughter died, replaced by a look of confusion as he studied the image again. Aside from their gender, the depiction in the book had nothing in common with the woman he knew. "You must realize this is false. If Sif and I were wed, I'd hardly be boasting of you to my friends."

"Of course it is," she said with some frustration towards his continued misunderstanding, "but if these myths are stories built around a confusion of the truth, there may be elements that are more true than others. It would explain some things and I…"

"We _were_ betrothed for some time," he explained, feeling the need to be forthcoming with her, "but it was not meant to be."

Jane brushed her hair back behind her ear and bit her lip. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Why?" he asked in genuine puzzlement. "This shouldn't affect you. There have been many years separating Sif and I from each other. She may have cancelled our agreement, but we've since mended our friendship."

"But last night…" she paused for a moment to plan her words. "It just seems like she still feels _something_."

"She loves me," Jane's eyes grew wide in surprise at his casual admission, "and she has an important place in my own heart as well. But no matter what her intentions, or our past, there is no excuse for what she said. I've spoken to her - and I've threatened to move her post if she disrespects you again."

She sighed loudly. "Thor…" she started in an argumentative tone.

"What's wrong?" he asked with a chuckle, so utterly confused that he was beginning to find it humorous. "I thought you would be pleased with my actions."

"I don't think you understand what a woman can feel towards a man she used to be with, even when she's the one who ended things," she explained, "and the fact that you _know_ she still loves you…"

"Make no mistake, when I refer to 'love' I mean absolute respect, loyalty, fealty, and a willingness to sacrifice herself for myself and Asgard. It has been nearly an age since she and I _loved_ one another and those feelings likely rest within a deep grave."

"'Nearly an age' doesn't mean anything. I still think about an old ex of mine all of the time and if things had been a little different, maybe…"

She trailed off, but Thor furrowed his brow in distaste for her comment. "Who is this '_ex?_'"

She held back a wry laugh as she pictured Thor in all of his glory, chasing after a helpless surgeon in a lab coat with his magical hammer. "That's not important," she said dismissively. "I know I'm an outsider here and you had to pull a lot of strings to get your father to let me come."

He looked at her in confusion. "There were no strings, nor did I _pull_ anything…"

"It took the expense of your favor…" she explained in words he would know. He nodded in understanding. "You risked a lot by bringing me here, didn't you? And you've made some big statements about me to your people."

He smiled broadly. "They are all true. I wanted Asgard to know of my determination - and how important you are."

She returned his smile with a light blush. It would be a while before she would be used to his heavy words and his treatment of her, which was already so much different than how any other man had ever regarded her. Much more, he seemed to be moving much faster than she would have preferred, but considering the dynamics surrounding his life and role, his urgency was understandable, and she would try to show patience towards him for this. "But did you consider how she might feel?"

Thor's eyes dropped, but he didn't answer for several moments. "Never, in all the ages of Yggdrasil, would I have thought she would have acted as she did. How am I to predict what she feels?"

"You're still very important to her. I'm sure I'm a little bit of a threat, considering what you've done for me, but I also think she honestly cares for your best interests and is conflicted by this," she answered. "If I were her, I'd probably feel embarrassed and hurt by your ultimatum; I think I'd be looking for something to reaffirm my value."

He shook his head. "She is stronger than that," he argued. He wished Jane hadn't heard what he'd said to Sif, but in his inebriated state, he'd forgotten how sound could travel in the empty halls of the palace and had made no effort to quiet his voice. Just as he had heard Sif's confrontation with Jane, she was sure to have heard most or all of his rebuttal.

"I'm sure she's strong, but you were the man she was going to marry," she said. "That kind of closeness doesn't die, just because plans get cancelled."

Thor's expression softened. He drew his knees up and rested his arms on their tops, staring out to the field in front of them. Jane's words had sunk into his heart slowly, but now he was quite regretful of his actions. "You're very wise. I owe her many debts and though she reacted in a fool-hearted, brash manner, she does not deserve my ire. How is it you believe I should atone?"

"I can't answer that for you," she said, "but please don't bring me into the middle of it again. You've been friends for longer than I can probably even imagine. I don't want to be the cause that ends it."

He nodded, respecting her wish. "Jane - why does this so concern you?" he asked in sincerity. "Sif is a near stranger to you and that part of our relationship ended generations ago for your people."

She shrugged lightly. "I don't know. I realize there are a lot of people who probably don't approve of me being here, but I liked her. I guess I was hoping she would be a friend."

"I understand."

She smiled softly and placed her hand on his. "Thank you - for last night and this morning, " she said, attempting to change the tone of their conversation. He returned her smile. "I know you've gone to a lot of trouble for me."

"I've only ever wished for you to feel welcomed here."

"I do."

"Good. I wouldn't have wanted these efforts to be defeated by one unfortunate interaction."

She leaned her head against his shoulder and answered honestly. "I may be only a mortal," she started in sarcastic jest, lightening his heart, "but I don't give up that easily."

* * *

Metal clashed with metal in the warm light of the noon sun. She swung her twin swords through the air towards her sparring partner, her strong arms gauging their weight and speed carefully to avoid a block or parry. He did move to block, and was slightly faster than her, effectively knocking her momentum off of its course and causing her to lose her footing for just a moment. As her right foot slipped on the long grass beneath her, he seized his opportunity, swinging his mace at the back of her left leg and sending her to the soft ground behind her.

She landed with a loud "thud," but it was an easy impact. Instead of jumping back up to her ready stance, she rested where she was for a moment, catching her breath as she savored the warm breeze coming the from the hills. He crouched beside her and looked down with only a mere hint of concern on his stoic expression.

"Is that all for today?" Hogan asked.

Sif smiled wryly at his simple question. "No, give me a few moments to collect myself," she said. He nodded in return, content to give her some time.

"Hogan the Grim" was the member of the Three and one of her friends she knew the least; she didn't doubt he knew as little about her personal life as she did of his. For the moment, he was exactly what she needed in company. There was a time for comfort and counsel, and in those instances, Volstagg and Fandral were great assets as comrades and peers. However, Hogan's insistence on silence beyond necessary words, and his lack of concern for trivial moods, feelings, and the day-to-day happenings in the lives of others, was welcome beyond measure; she didn't feel like talking or communicating in any manner that didn't involve the whistle of her sword and the sweat of her brow.

"I haven't been an opponent worthy of your efforts lately," she said. "I'm sorry for wasting your time."

"Even the strongest warriors have moments when their strength and focus wane. What matters is that you continue training and push beyond it."

Sif smiled again. His simple critique was well-received. Her other friends would be inquiring as to its cause, and though she didn't want to lie to them, she would have to. Crafting a deception and falsity would be far less embarrassing than admitting the truth.

She sat up and crossed her legs on the ground in front of her. "I had hoped to push beyond it a while ago. It's proving - a difficult obstacle to overcome."

"Then perhaps you should increase your training regimen until you have succeeded. For the moment, our assignment in Asgard stands. When you have need for an opponent, I am at your disposal."

He didn't smile, as he rarely did, but his eyes contained the warmth of respect and friendship she would expect from the others, and she gratefully returned it. "I will. Thank you, Hogan."

She took a drink of water and he helped her to her feet. As soon as they were ready to begin again, a loud explosion of air resounded from the city. Hogan looked up in alarm, as they both recognized and knew the sound well, but Sif hid her head in her hand. Thor's face was one she would have paid a great sum _not _to see that day.

As Sif expected, he landed at their feet, making a small mark in the soft soil with his impact. His smile shined and his azure eyes glowed like blue flame, but she didn't look upon it with welcome as she normally would. Her face grew hot and her skin cold as her eyes already stung in remembrance of the pain caused the night before.

"It's a good day for training," Thor said pleasantly to Hogan.

"Have you come to join?" he asked.

Thor looked towards Sif. Her arms were crossed, and though she wasn't looking at him, her eyes were narrowed and fixed like daggers at a distant, indefinable point. With such a look of rage, he would fear for his life if he sparred with her, but he didn't say so. "I was hoping to speak with Sif; it's a matter of some discretion."

Hogan made no argument and asked for no explanation regarding Thor's interference. He nodded to both of them and gathered his things, riding away on his horse. Even when he was out of earshot, Thor didn't begin speaking. Although he was most likely calculating his words, Sif's frustration grew exponentially with every second of his silence.

"Have you come to give me my new assignment?" she asked, choosing to break the tense stillness herself as she sheathed her swords violently.

He sighed. "Sif, I…" he began, trailing off as he struggled with his words.

"Where shall it be? Midgard?" she asked. "Or are you content to silence my _false counsel_ by sending me to the far corners of Muspelheim?"

"I don't…"

"And how long am I to stay? Until your anger ebbs, or…"

He grabbed her arm, forcing her to face him. "I am not angry anymore; I'm wounded and confused," he said, "but I should never have brought your subordinate position into the matter, and for that, I'm also very sorry."

Her eyes fell to the ground, but her expression didn't soften. "Perhaps if you had regarded me as your subordinate during the entirety of dinner last night, you would have listened to me instead of…" she swallowed hard, unable to complete her thought.

"It's very difficult for me to separate what we are and what we once were in circumstances such as these," he said. "Jane has enlightened me to some of the reasons why you may have acted as you did, and I understand…"

Sif scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Did she? She knows of our past? Of my life?" she asked, throwing her satchel over her shoulder. It was clear Thor would only keep her ear for a moment or two longer. "Pray tell, what has she done to earn more of your faith in such a short time than one who has been in your trusted company for most of your life? Why would you heed such ignorant advice and accuse a true word from loyal friend and follower of being false?"

Thor said nothing. He knew this had gone sour, and that he had made a misstep with nearly every word he'd spoken. He meant this to be an apology of sorts, and a reaffirmation of their friendship. Instead, he had only further hardened her heart.

In reaction to his silence, she mounted her horse. "You need no longer concern yourself with my reassignment. If I wound and confuse you so effortlessly, then I will make this decision easier and maintain my distance from you and your personal affairs."

"No, that's…" her horse neighed loudly and she changed her posture, prepared to ride away. Abruptly, he grabbed the horse's reigns and held fast. The horse reared up and whined, but stayed despite her prodding. "Sif," he started, looking up to her with a sense of desperation in his eyes and within his rough voice. "You are one of my closest friends. We're supposed to die together in some distant, glorious battle. I cannot lose you like _this_."

Her anger ebbed subtly, but her frown deepened. "You haven't lost me," she said. He smiled softly, though her tone didn't match her words. "You've put me into my true place. I simply need to settle into it."

The allusion of her harsh words stung. He had a retort and argument, but in fear of making things worse, he remained silent. Instead of pushing her and the issue at hand, he released her horse, allowing her to ride away.

* * *

It had been only a few days since she'd been to the palace, since she'd seen Thor, and since she'd sworn to him she'd take distance from him to a greater extent. She meant what she'd said; every word from her mouth was true, although her tone had dripped with the fire of her temper as it burned at the time. She was hurt by his accusation regarding her confrontation with Jane and her motivation, and she honestly believed some separation and time would be the best for both of them. However, she didn't anticipate it being so difficult to remain away from the great halls of the palace and wasn't prepared for the sense of isolation she would feel, even after such an incredibly short time.

She had lost perspective of how much of her life was involved in the inner circle of the court. She had been away from the palace and Asgard for long periods before, but even in those instances, she felt connected and involved, as much as it was appropriate for her position. Even after she had cancelled their betrothal to Thor, their decision had been so amicable that she felt welcome in high company and in the business of realm affairs. She hated the idea of getting the news at court from the mouths of gossipers and busy-bodies and knew she would grow to miss her daily updates with Thor and the Three when they were present within the realm.

Her stomach ached with emptiness that food could not ameliorate. The latest rumor to make it down the high towers of the palace was that Jane had begun teaching the magicians about her sciences, and had thus far impressed them with her knowledge, despite the adamant protests they had made against her prior to her arrival. A conflict boiled in Sif's mind; she legitimately wanted Thor to be happy, and for the most part, she liked Jane's spirit. However, any news of the public's improving view of their relationship provided evidence that Jane could consider Thor's offer with less fear of reprisal. If she did, Sif held no doubt that this unpleasant change would be made permanent, and her status, in more than one regard, would diminish.

Despite her doubts, a semblance of regret prevented her complete immersion into a fugue. In her heart, she realized she was acting childishly and opposite from the façade of proud strength she tried to exhibit. Thor's words _had_ hurt, but when she thought of his perspective, she realized his anger was instigated by her own confrontation with Jane - a demand that had come before the other woman had spent even one night in a completely foreign and strange world. Any threat that had been posed on her position and friendship had originated from her own choices. Unfortunately, this realization only fueled her uncertainty, bringing out a side of her she had worked very hard to hide and move beyond.

As Sif considered these thoughts and entertained her fears, she sat in front of her mirror. She was dressed in her armor, brushing her hair before putting it up as she prepared to go out on her daily duties. Her reflection caught her eye, and she began to criticize every misplaced bump or slight line on her youthful features. She knew she was vain - and the true curse of vanity was the insecurities it birthed, most of which were completely irrelevant to the real problems of the time. However, it was difficult to consider Thor's words against her without wondering if it bore any relationship to her desirability, even though he'd made no such implication and hadn't expressed his thoughts of that aspect of her in many, many years. Her weakness fueled these thoughts, stealing her reason as her heart sank even further.

Loki's assessment of her had struck with deadly accuracy, but it wasn't until she had found herself sharing his bed that she was aware of how vulnerable this fault left her. She had committed betrayal of a high regard in several different ways - and it was all to feel as though she were desired, to feel his warm skin upon her own and know that she was wanted, at least in the basest of ways. It was this vulnerability that caused her to put at risk the position for which she had worked so hard because if she were caught, many would accuse her of treason, and the rest would assume other horrid things. It was also this vulnerability that parented much of her dissonance, for as much as she regretted her actions, she almost wanted to visit him again - in order to bathe herself in the reassurance his body and attentions granted, and feel a few moments of the unique, temporary comfort he had offered.

Sif blew out her candles, put her hairbrush down on her dresser, and rested her head in her hands. She _had_ to see him again; total avoidance wasn't an option. She was scheduled to attend to him that day, and would have to begin her rounds soon. She would give anything to take back time and do the last week differently, and Loki, with his typical mischievous antagonism, would surely be more than pleased to remind her of why.

Even though her heart was troubled, Sif was not one to allow personal issues to interfere with duty. She pushed her doubts deeply within herself and made her rounds, meeting with her subordinates and accomplishing certain menial tasks before continuing to her afternoon shift in Loki's quarters. She hoped he would keep his mouth quiet, that he wouldn't gloat about her indiscretion, or say anything that would cause her more shame than she already felt for having bedded the chief enemy of her prince and the Allfather. Her cynical side had a more realistic expectation, and as she stepped into his chambers, she began planning what she could say or threaten to assure the silence of his tongue. She held little faith in his previous word that he wouldn't say anything if he were given the opportunity.

She was surprised to see Fandral first, sitting casually on the couch in Loki's common room. "What are you doing here?" she asked. "I was on roster for this morning."

"Volstagg and I have been keeping a steady watch for the last few days," he answered.

"Why?" she asked, unable to disguise her skeptical tone. "I thought it unnecessary to guard him so consistently. Has Thor changed his mind regarding our schedule?"

"No, the change was of my own volition." Fandral crossed his arms. His lips twitched as he looked back with suspicion towards Loki. "He somehow escaped from his mask. One of the guards happen to see him without it when he delivered his food. I was the one on shift when this was first reported."

"How is that even possible?" she asked.

"I'm not certain, and the court magicians have offered no advice on the issue," he said.

Loki was leaning against the wall behind him, his hands on his hips as he shot a hard, withering stare at the back of the warrior's head. He glanced in her direction for just a moment and raised a dark eyebrow only slightly. Sif's confusion suddenly changed to shock as the color left her face. Loki _hadn't_ learned how to free himself - _she_ had made a grave error, and had forgotten to replace the mask after their night together.

"I don't understand," she said nervously. "Why is this the first I've heard of it?"

"I was hesitant to burden you with it outside of your normal duty. You've taken a heavy schedule, and I thought you could use this small grace," he said carefully, "but since he's obviously up to his old, nefarious efforts, I'm cautious to leave him alone. Though I hate to add to your plate, I think we should adopt an uninterrupted schedule."

"Oh, that won't be necessary," Loki said.

"Of_ course_ you would object," Fandral argued. "The longer you're left alone, the greater your opportunity to stretch and test your bounds."

"Why do you assume _I_ removed the device? It could have been one of yours who neglected to secure it properly."

While Fandral's head was turned in the other direction, Sif narrowed her eyes and met Loki's stare with a cold intensity; he smirked in return, and though it was concealed by the mask, it was still evident in his eyes.

"I doubt that," Fandral replied.

"Perhaps you should ask the one who last was here. Wasn't it Sif? I remember her gracing me with her presence briefly - in the evening."

Fandral smiled confidently. "You're becoming careless in your deceit. Sif was at dinner with our group that evening," he said. "Regardless, I have more faith in her to avoid such a mistake than I do in any other. There is none in Asgard that wants to see you cut off from your magic more than her."

Sif's fist clenched in anger at the onset of Loki's game. She was familiar with his objective, but she knew of no way to avoid his traps. Fandral looked back at her for confirmation of his statement, but her eyes faltered and her face betrayed the truth. "For once, he is not deceiving you. It was my mistake and I thank you for the time you've lost compensating for it."

Fandral scoffed and opened his mouth in disbelief. "I have never known you to be capable of such error," he said. "What happened?"

"I was distracted that night," she said honestly, though she didn't care to elaborate on the various troubles that had plagued her thoughts or the activity that had drawn her focus from her sense of duty. "I'd had too much to drink and was weary from a long day."

Fandral remained silent, awaiting the rest of the answer she would not give, including the reason she had been there in such a late hour. A small panic began to set in. Loki would surely seize the opportunity to cause havoc within their small group. Would she be better off admitting everything from her own mouth before he could savor its reveal? Or was Loki's assumption that it would not be believed correct? She was a horrible liar, but it was possible for Fandral's trust to work against his suspicion of her.

"What in _the nine_ could have distracted you from such an important task?"

"Fandral, I…" she began.

"That was me," Loki interrupted casually. Sif reached for her sword, knowing of no other threat that would work against him. "I made some jest about her abilities and she lost her temper with me." His eyes turned to her and she could see the crooked smile that remained on his lips through the side grate of his mask. "Perhaps you should loose yourself more often. You're lovely when you're angry."

Sif frowned deeply at his remark, but she simultaneously relaxed and took her hand from the grip of her weapon.

"I don't have to tell you what would have resulted from his escape if he had seized his opportunity," Fandral said lowly to Sif, although Loki could hear everything despite his whispered voice.

"Fandral, it was a single mistake," she argued. "I certainly didn't intend to cause such upset."

"If he had escaped and contacted his allies, I doubt the Allfather or Thor would've seen it that way."

Sif's eyes lowered; her stomach sank with guilt as her embarrassment showed on her features. "End your hyperbole," Loki suddenly spat. "The seals around this place cause me pain whenever I try to approach the outer walls and I can't manage the simplest spells, even the low-level illusions I use on my own appearance. This muzzle is hardly needed; it serves no greater purpose than to inconvenience _all_ of us."

Fandral furrowed his brow in cynical doubt and looked back towards Sif. She nodded in agreement, and he raised an eyebrow in surprise of her support of Loki's argument. "He would've tried something the moment I left, if he were able. His inaction is proof enough of his impotency."

Fandral ran a finger along his mustache in serious thought. "If you are so confident, we should suggest it be removed permanently unless he's in transport. We wouldn't need to waste so much time coming here and we could allocate some of the Einherjar for better purposes." His mood seemed to lighten with the mere suggestion of ending his guard of Loki, and if the prince were more honest, he would've expressed his adamant agreement.

Sif nodded. "Good. The issue should be raised at our next meeting," she began in a passive voice, unsure if she would be there to speak of it herself. "Thor will want to know…"

"No need to wait, we'll address it tonight."

She paused. "Tonight?"

"At dinner - our usual gathering of the mad caps," he joked with a smile. "I was considering missing tonight's festivities myself. You know Thor, when he finds something about which to brag, he can hardly stop, _but_ he has promised to regale us with tales of Midgard and Loki's follies there, and I could not easily decline stories of such glorious failure."

Loki muttered a curse under his breath and retreated into his bedroom to free himself from their conversation. Fandral, pleased with his quip, missed Sif's downturned lips and the troubled look that crossed her features.

"You will be there, won't you? I could not hope to bear Volstagg to his quarters myself after he's had too much to drink, even with Hogan's help."

"No, I - I've too many issues to attend to and I am weary today," she explained falsely. "Give everyone my best in my absence."

"You will be missed," he said, thinking nothing of her decline beyond what her words explained, "but I will pass your message along."

Sif nodded and Fandral looked back towards Loki's room uneasily. "Were you going to stay here?"

"Yes, for a little while," she answered.

"Hmm…" Fandral began lowly in displeasure as he stood to leave. His protective nature was still strongly intact. "I'm still uncertain that this was not the result of some new game. Be careful."

She smiled at him and his caring warning of caution. "I will be."

The moment the door closed behind him, Loki came out of his room. She glared at him, but he simply chuckled, unfazed by the ice that filled her eyes. "What was that about? I thought you agreed to discretion, but he certainly could have inferred…"

"I never said I would be discrete about _anything_. I said they wouldn't believe me if I tried to tell them. Therein lies a vast difference." He walked up beside her and put a hand on her arm, running his fingers down her skin slowly. "I did enjoy watching you squirm. What would my old friends say if they knew I'd had you?"

She pulled herself away and narrowed her eyes. "Do not assume such familiarity with me because of one night."

"One night, multiple bouts," he corrected, "but don't evade my question. My curiosity is legitimate."

Her eyes fell to the ground. "I would wish never to know the answer; it would test their love for me to its limits."

"Would it?" he asked. "And you don't believe it's already being so tested, even without this additional scandal?"

"What do you mean?" she asked against her better judgment, knowing his tendency to skew and twist words to his own purpose.

"You had no idea Thor was throwing one of his little parties, did you? It seems he's sifting you out of his inner circle," he observed curiously. Thor often called his closest friends for gatherings around his table. Prior to his fall, Loki had been to many of them himself, and Sif was rarely absent, provided her duties permitted her attendance.

"How would you know that?" she asked. "Just because I will not be able to attend one meal doesn't mean…"

"Then why did you lie to him?" he asked through narrowed eyes. She scoffed, a subtle denial, but her expression reflected her disappointment in herself. "Do not pretend to be so modest with _me._"

She made no attempt to deny it again, and her silence further confirmed his inference to be correct. He smirked, and chortled quietly. "Despite my acuity for these matters, however, I cannot determine _why. _Is this because of the Midgardian?" he asked.

Loki didn't know of Jane's arrival, but his shot in the dark had hit close to its mark. "It was at my request," she answered honestly, careful not to confirm his suspicions through her words or expression. "Considering my recent missteps, I thought it better to keep my distance so I don't compromise him as I have compromised myself."

"Such _noble_ humility - and yet, you seem to be taking his turn from you with some difficulty," he said, over-emphasizing his feigned sympathy.

Her brow tightened and her frown deepened. "You speak as an expert on me, but you are completely ignorant. The other night was…"

"I'm not referring to the other night in itself. I've shared your dreams; I know you better than you think I do - and more than you would like."

"Yes, you probably do," she admitted. "You've seen me at the summit of my anxieties and the nadir of my insecurities. You have seen the impact and scope of this fresh wound, yet you continue to pick at the raw edges and scab that has formed over it. I would have dared hoped this might have changed, considering…" she said with a sigh, "but you continue to try me, and manipulate and bruise me with words."

"Thor's obsession with Earth shows no sign of diminishing and if that's your chief threat, you have yet a _long_ way to fall. I don't believe that sort of wound would heal, even if _I_ let it be."

"Perhaps it wouldn't, but I would be no worse for it if you were to leave it alone," she said. "Why I sought treatment - supplementation of sorts - from your bed… You view me as a target, even now."

He looked away from her, his lips dropping from their normal sarcastic smile to a straight, thin line behind his mask. Her last words contained an air of regret, but not, for once, in her actions, but in his regard of her. "It is a disadvantage of habit, and my nature," he said in a near-apology, "I find it difficult to ignore weaknesses in others that can serve a benefit to my own circumstances."

"What benefit could my slow attenuation possibly serve you?" she asked. She found she could not argue with his point on his nature, but this increased the confusion plaguing her own mind. She wasn't sure where to assign blame if he continued to use her insecurities to his advantage, especially if she bared them so blatantly.

"It has served me well thus far," he said smoothly. She could see the cold smile reappear in his eyes. "But I will try not to antagonize you so often."

She narrowed her eyes skeptically, curious about his motives, though she did not ask. Most would probably think it strange to be suspicious over a half-hearted compromise, but such words were rare for Loki, and so she could not take them for full value. "I hope so," she replied.

He straightened his posture, his appearance returning to its normal smugness. "You may choose to believe differently, but I care not for the social luxuries of dinner parties, nor do I care for Thor's personal life to the extent I may have implied," he said. He crossed his arms in front of him. "What I care about is power - and escape to find it. Everything else is a distraction."

"I see," she responded.

"That's not to say that some of them weren't welcome distractions," he said, glancing at her from the corner of his eye, "but you can rest well knowing I am not making it my sole mission to interfere in the events of your life or Thor's. I have no time for such trivialities."

His words were calm and his manner mild, but there was something in his tone that dripped with bitterness as he spoke. She remained silent about her observation, but she felt his denial wasn't entirely truthful or was centered in frustration. Sif cursed herself for not being better at the type of games Loki played. If she were, she could better determine why and use it against him, as he, like most others, became sloppy when their anger flared.

"I'm glad we're clear on the matter; I'd certainly hate to consume anymore of your time," she said dryly. She turned to leave, but just as she stepped towards his door, he spoke.

"Sif," he started, putting his hand to his head as though his next words hurt to speak. "I need your help with something - please."

She could not resist his request phrased with such rare humility and so she stayed and listened to his complaint. In odd legitimacy, he asked for her assistance, and though she hadn't intended to stay any longer, she would bear his request and offer him help.

"Stop moving," she said sternly, "I'm trying to do this carefully."

He hissed and jerked his head out of her reach. "You're not succeeding."

He sat on the bench in front of his bedroom mirror as Sif stood behind him. Her fingers slowly combed through the back of his head, brushing bloodied strands of hair and a patch of raw skin. He grunted in displeasure. "He did catch your skin, didn't he?" she asked rhetorically, pushing his black hair out of the way to get a better look at his wound.

Fandral had not used care or precision when he hurried to put back Loki's mask. The clasp that fastened in the back had clicked together, catching his hair and tearing a ragged opening in his scalp, but he could not remove or loosen it himself to cure it. "I'm surprised that careless buffoon is of _any_ use on the battlefield."

"I doubt he was concerned with your comfort," she said. Without warning him, she dabbed the spot with a cloth to clean the area. He grimaced and clenched his teeth, but he didn't complain. "I'll remove the mask, if you will behave. Can I trust you?"

"As much as you could a few days ago."

She ignored the implication and undid the clasp. The mask fell off, and Loki sighed with relief. He leaned back into her hands, much more complacent with her attention in his free state. "Do you need a healing stone?"

"My body mends fast; it isn't necessary."

He closed his eyes as she combed her nails along his hair and through the tangles that had formed in his dried blood. He seemed comforted by this action, and so she continued, absentmindedly running her hands along his scalp, silently curious regarding how his hair already seemed to have grown longer during his short incarceration. She was surprised at how soft it was, very different from the greasy stiffness it appeared to have from a distance, and was also amazed at how little he had along the rest of his body. A small, fine patch on the center of his chest and a line down the contour of his lower stomach were the only other visible places it grew, and even those spots had been groomed and minimized so they were hardly apparent. His arms and legs were smooth with very fine, nearly invisible hairs and felt silky against her own skin. She was used to the prickly feeling on a masculine form that was covered in the stubble and lengths of coarse hair in various places, but his body moved well against hers; she had no complaints.

Blood rushed to her face as she recalled the previous night in his bed. It wasn't just the feeling of his skin she'd enjoyed, but the heat of his breath and the touch of his fingers. He experimented and explored, seemingly wanting to make it worth her risk and the trouble it may yet cause for her. He did, but she wasn't sure if it was his skill, the danger and rebelliousness behind their action, or her own anger that had fueled their flame so effectively. Whatever it was, it was intriguing to her to find such enjoyment in the company of a man she resented, a man she had been relieved to see flogged only a few weeks before for his actions against her and her closest friends.

She looked up from the waves of his dark hair intertwined in her fingers and noticed his stare reflecting back at her from the mirror. He had caught the expression of doubt and debate on her features, and the blush on her cheeks. This embarrassed her, but instead of looking away from his icy, blue eyes, she locked with them. Loki dropped his first, but only so he could turn in his chair to face her. He slowly and tentatively moved his hands to a spot low on her hips, pulling her slightly closer as he carefully read her expression for change.

She parted her lips as she looked down at him, her breath quickening nearly imperceptibly. She didn't argue or resist, but moved her fingers along his scalp again, causing goose bumps to form on his forearms.

"Only moments ago, you were convinced this was a mistake," he said quietly, "and mere days ago you were torn regarding what you felt was a betrayal to everything you love."

Her mind screamed in protest of her body's reactions as she ran through the list of reasons why she should leave at that moment. Her resentment towards what he had become was first, but the possibility of getting caught and the potential consequences were close behind. Still, within her reasonable mind's arguments was a small, dissenting voice that argued against this logic. Her fear surrounding her position within Asgard was valid, but her thoughts on her relationship with Thor were growing ever quieter. He was busy pursuing his desires, regardless of what the majority of Asgard and the Allfather wanted. Thor be damned if he judged her for doing the same.

"Do you wish for me to leave?" she asked, her voice nearly a whisper compared to when she'd last spoke.

He took his hands from her hips and moved them along her arms. He found the clasps to her gauntlets and unfastened them, allowing the metal pieces to fall to the ground loudly. "That isn't what I said," he argued, his eyes searching her for the next piece of armor that needed to be removed.

She unlocked and pulled off her cuirass herself and stepped closer, nearly straddling his legs as she leaned down. Her hand moved under his chin and lifted it, forcing him to look at her face. "Would it offend you if I contradicted myself and humored this temptation once again?"

"Your whims change often, Lady Sif," he spoke. His voice dropped in register and tone so that the bass echoed in her ears and reverberated through her chest. "But so long as they lead to my advantage, I have no argument."

She grabbed his tunic and pulled until he stood and followed her back to his bed as his fingers worked on the laces of her bodice. Without pause or any semblance of gentleness, he lifted her by her hips and dropped her onto the mattress. She grunted, but any complaint she was about to voice ceased as he climbed atop of her, pressing his form against hers as he brushed his lips over her neck.

She sighed contentedly and ran her hand from his shoulders down to the front opening of his tunic, pushing him away slightly. "When my whims should change again…"

"Why allow a potentiality to ruin the moment?"

She paused. "An _inevitability_," she corrected, "not a _potentiality_."

"Spoil not the present with thoughts of the future," he said through a growl of frustration. The strings holding her top in place were stubbornly refusing to move. With one abrupt jerk, he tore them from their eyelets and smiled in satisfaction as it fell back to reveal her pale skin. He moved his hand slowly from the center of her stomach up to her smooth neck, his eyes following until they met hers once again. "While you remain my guest, think only of what can be achieved right now."

She didn't argue further, nor did she allow her mind to distract her with fears and consequences for the act she repeated soberly for the second time. Instead, she followed his suggestion, closed her eyes, and allowed herself to be imbued by the moment and the feeling of his body upon her own.

* * *

Their festivities were as boisterous as always. The wine and mead flowed generously, and with it, loose tongues as they reminisced and entertained their guest. Jane smiled and listened gratefully. In their previous gathering, she had been asked many questions about her world, some of which were difficult for her to answer. She was a brilliant scientist, but her mind was not so keen toward politics, history, and the intricacies of Earth's many different cultures, and so she found herself at a loss for words in response to some of their inquiries. It was a welcome change to listen to their tales, though she struggled to formulate a mental timeline; their lives were impossibly long, and they had lived through many events worth retelling.

"Sif warned you not to venture into that cave by yourself, as I recall," Volstagg said to Fandral.

"She did," he replied.

"Yet you did anyway, didn't you?" Thor asked with a chuckle.

"I _did_," he confirmed, unashamed. "I believed it to be an ideal opportunity to prove myself as an individual, as it had been a while since I'd accepted any real challenge without company."

"That," Volstagg started, "is the biggest load of horse fodder I have _ever _heard!"

Fandral laughed. "And how do you remember it Volstagg, my vast and plentiful friend?" he asked, patting the other warrior on his stomach playfully.

"Rumor had it that there was a fair, young woman held within. You wanted to go alone - to collect your 'reward' _alone_," he explained. "You nearly died fighting the beast that nested there, and the woman it had taken had not been fair _nor_ young since Asgard's creation."

The group chuckled. "She _was_ grateful, though," Fandral said, his inebriated mind clouding the judgment around what he was saying. Volstagg inferred the meaning of his words incorrectly and laughed heartily. Thor raised a humored, but judgmental eyebrow. "I didn't mean to imply… She didn't…" He cleared his throat awkwardly, failing to cover his words.

Volstagg took mercy on his friend and changed the topic. "Where _is_ Sif tonight? I have missed her quips and her voice in our many stories."

Thor's face grew suddenly dark as his eyes fixed on the silver goblet in his hand. He tried fruitlessly to formulate an answer, and was surprised when Fandral provided one first. "She said she was tired - and had other tasks to finish before she could rest."

Volstagg furrowed his brow and tilted his head in confusion. "How odd for Sif to turn down the opportunity for one of our gatherings. She loves taking her part in our storytelling."

"You spoke with her?" Thor asked lowly. Fandral noticed the change in his voice, but chose to remain momentarily silent about his observation.

"Yes - just this afternoon," he answered. "She and I discussed Loki's circumstances. She believes it is possible for us to remove his mask and trust the enchantments around his quarters."

"Do you agree?" he asked, hoping this topic would enable him to avoid explaining her absence.

"I do - if it is safe," Fandral said. "This will allow us to decrease our guard and be utilized in better places."

"So it would," he concurred. "I shall ask for my father's evaluation; he knows the strengths of Loki's magic better than I."

Fandral nodded, and for a moment, the group remained silent. "Sif has been acting strange lately," Volstagg spoke, breaking the silence. Jane looked down to the plate in front of her, hoping her sudden discomfort would not be noticed.

"Agreed," Hogan added, "and she has not been performing at her usual level."

Fandral looked towards Thor, whose eyes remained fixed in front of him. He was hesitant to speak this way towards his prince, but in favor of his friend, he gently spoke anyway. "You know what burdens our Lady, don't you?" he asked.

Thor shifted his posture uncomfortably. "It's not our job to speculate on her life."

Volstagg scratched his beard in confusion. "If her trouble is on her heart or mind, it's curious why she didn't want to come. We can usually distract her with our merriment, and at the very least, she may have been able to shift her focus temporarily."

The others stayed silent in thought. After a moment of weighted quiet, Thor sighed discontentedly and put his glass down on the table loudly. "She didn't come because I did not extend an invitation to her." The Three held surprised and confused expressions.

Volstagg dropped the leg of fowl he held back onto his plate. "My Prince," he started, emphasizing his intended, sincere respect, "what has befallen…"

"Stop," Thor said, though his abrupt word was soft and lacked harshness. "Sif and I must acclimate to recent changes and need time and space to do so. I beg you as her friends not to inquire to her further, as it may cause her hardship to think this would affect her companionship with you. I must also demand you not ask this of me either, for I have yet to decide what to do for my part."

The others looked at each other in concern and then back to Thor as if they expected further explanation. He offered none. The jovial look on Volstagg's face faded as though he'd heard this news of his own mother and father. Fandral's expression revealed his lack of satisfaction in Thor's answer and his continued curiosity around the situation. Jane wondered if he would defy Thor's request and push the issue further. For the moment, however, he stayed still and silent. As her eyes shifted towards the normally stoic and silent Hogan, she was startled to find his stare meeting hers in an evaluative manner. He looked away eventually, but Jane's cheeks grew hot with embarrassment. She had become the elephant in the room, the subject everyone wanted to discuss, yet no one dared address first. It was not hard to identify the probable source behind Thor's sudden problems with his once-betrothed.

She moved her hair behind her ear nervously, trying hard to reconcile their view of her with her belief that her relationship with him shouldn't be impacted or defined by another woman's hurt feelings. Still, her discomfort would not ebb, nor would the feeling she had somehow just alienated herself from Thor's friends without doing anything. "I'm really tired," she whispered to Thor. "I'm going to go to bed."

Thor looked at her sharply in concern. "Jane, this isn't…"

"I'm fine," she said in answer to his silent question. "I just want to go to bed."

She stood from the table and said goodnight. Thor let her leave and tried to resume his normal conversation with his friends, but the evening had turned sour. Knowing that she had been lying, he soon excused himself as well. He followed her path and caught up to her just as she was about to enter her room.

"Jane," he started. She didn't give him the chance to continue.

"I asked you to leave me out of it. I've already lost one potential friend, but now the others are beginning to think…"

"This has less to do with you than you seem to believe," he said in frustration. He was beginning to think fortune had abandoned him in all of his relationships. "Your appearance bared old wounds from an age ago, but these scars would have reopened in time, even if you remained on Earth."

She looked at him skeptically. "Then why does it seem like they've made up their minds? They blame me..."

"Has someone told you this?"

"No, but I…"

"Then you have nothing to worry about," he argued with a small, reassuring smile. "My friends likely see you as a catalyst to change, which is often resisted in a society as old as ours, but they don't resent you. The Three are not the types to hide their distain well. You and I would know beyond doubt if they regarded you poorly," he said. "I could explain the situation to them in greater detail, if you wished, but it would involve you in a larger capacity - and I believe that is what you wanted to avoid."

"No, you don't need to," she said quietly.

He looked down the hall at the guards in their postings. Most of them were far away, and with their eyes fixed ahead, would not likely see or hear them. "I am trying to make room for you," he said in a whisper. "By distancing myself from what is in the past, I leave room for what awaits me in the future. My friends - even Sif - recognize this doesn't threaten my loyalty to them, even if it causes some discomfort initially. What I hope is that you recognize what this means for your life here - should you choose one."

Her face softened and a small smile spread slowly on her lips despite her doubt. "I do. I just - don't like being a burden."

Her ran his hand along her cheek and kissed her, his soft lips leaving hers far too soon. "I would gladly take a thousand burdens like you before even one of the comforts of my throne."

His words were sweet, but his mouth was more comforting. She wrapped her hand behind his head and pulled him back down to her level, kissing him once more. He embraced her, lifting her with his strong arms so that her feet barely touched the ground. One breathless moment later, he gently set her down. Her smile brightened as she marveled in the blue of his eyes as they looked joyfully down at her, remembering the feeling of pure contentment she first felt a few days before during their first sunrise. Thor was full of debate at whether he should excuse himself, as was gentlemanly, or continue their present path, but she didn't wait for him to make up his mind.

"Would it go against your customs if I invited you inside?" she asked nervously, chiding herself for her shyness and the way her stomach flipped.

He smiled, pleasantly surprised by her boldness. "Custom can forget itself," he started in a low whisper, "for I am a fool if I reject such an invitation."

She opened the door behind her and took his hand as he followed her inside.

* * *

Sif laid still and quiet with her back to him, but though her breath fell evenly as her body began to cool, he knew she was not asleep. He decided he liked when she turned from him. It gave him the opportunity to admire her form and figure without fear of reproach or embarrassment, a luxury he did not enjoy in his youth when she often subtly recoiled when she caught him staring. His eyes travelled slowly over the shape of her back, from the sweat-soaked tendrils of hair that stuck to her neck, down the toned outline of her arm, to the swelling of her hip. There, he stopped. In the darkness, he could just make out several red spots, some of which had begun to take on a purplish hue. These marks were from his own hands; his grip had bruised her.

His mouth sank into a confused frown; he regretted once again marking her in the midst of his fervency and curiously wondered why she hadn't voiced displeasure or pain. As he considered this, he sighed through his nose. She heard this small noise and rolled over towards him, possibly misunderstanding the source of his frustration.

"Won't you say something?" she asked. She was expecting a smug or sarcastic remark or two after this latest union. His silence unnerved her.

"Why would I? Dwelling on it in droll conversation avails us nothing - not when we could put words into action." He moved closer and ran his hand down her leg to the inside of her knee, pulling it over his hip. His hand found her waist, and he gently drew her nearer.

She enjoyed the heat of his skin in the cold air and so she allowed him to continue, but weariness tugged her into the desire to sleep, and she didn't think she had the energy for him again. "Why is it your touch is so much warmer in life than in my dreams?" she asked sleepily, closing her eyes as she spoke. "Your skin was cool, almost cold."

"I am a Jotun," he said, unable to completely disguise the bitterness in his tone when he admitted it. "I thought you would have remembered this, considering the injury I caused to you. Ice-based powers run in my blood and when I was within your mind, I was present only as pure energy. It's no wonder you perceived me to be cold, and it's less a mystery how I inadvertently marked you when I lost focus."

She bit her lip and met his eyes. "Would that happen again?" she asked.

The red marks on her hips flashed through his mind, causing his chest to sink lightly. He rarely felt such concern over the thought of possibly hurting another, but he dismissed this uncommon thoughtfulness as the simple desire to avoid scaring her away so she might meet his purposes again. "Not as an accident, and to do so on purpose would require more magic than I can muster in this place," he explained. "Why? Is this something - you might desire?"

She scoffed at the strange suggestion and pulled away from him. "No, that was a sort of pain I would care not to experience again," she said, sitting up and reaching for her discarded clothes, "and it's cold enough in here without your ice powers."

He scorned himself for his own stupidity expressed in his careless question. When he had seen her in the healing rooms after his accident, she had been doubled over in pain, barely able to breathe. Though the injury had been inadvertent, he could almost understand why she struck him. To suggest that she might have enjoyed it was imbecilic.

"Since you're in the mood for questions, perhaps you could take one of mine," he said. She looked back at him curiously, then resumed lacing up her bodice. Loki's frown deepened as she put on more clothing, but he could hardly blame her for leaving. The need for sleep was beginning to pull at him as well, a rare urge for someone who needed only a few hours a night, if any at all. "What should I come to expect from this?"

She raised an eyebrow and looked back at him again. "What do you mean by that?"

"You accused me of foul violation despite the fact that you knew this wasn't true," he said.

She sighed and rolled her eyes. "You were guilty of my charge; dreams are a place most intimate and you were not invited into mine. Had I known it was really you and not some figment, I never would have…"

As she spoke, he sat up and moved closer to her, silencing her complaint with a kiss to her neck. "Semantics - they matter not to my chief argument," he whispered in her ear. "Only a short time after you made your charge, you broke into my quarters, sat on my lap and began relieving me of my clothing. You understand why there would be some confusion caused by this contradiction. Should I expect such warm greeting in future visits, or will I be forced to wait for the next time Thor angers you?"

She pulled away from him abruptly. He knew the wrong words had slipped from his tongue, but as talented as he was in his speechcraft, he could think of no other way to phrase his point so directly. "This afternoon, you didn't want me to consider the future - and you're not the type to plan ahead," she said.

"I'm not? Do you know me so well, Sif?" he asked with a dry chuckle. "I have well-laid plans that are _years_ from execution."

"Of what sort?"

He chortled again, entertained by her habit and assumption that he would answer, though he was under no delusion that their new physical dynamic would somehow negate the hard truth that he was still a prisoner and she, his guard. "This afternoon, I was concerned your mind would change in the heat of the moment. Now that we've been satiated, I am more concerned with your fickle whims and your penchant for making exaggerated claims against me. I care not what you'll be doing a decade from now, or even next year," he said dryly. "I only wish to know if you will continue pretending you regret these nights with me, or if I should allow myself to look forward to your next intrusion."

She crossed her arms in thought for a moment. "I doubt there will be a day in this age when I don't regret my actions here in some form," she answered. He chuckled wryly and deeply in her ear. His voice caused her skin to rise and a ripple of heat to travel down her spine. "But you have given me some reasons to ignore my inner voice of better judgment."

"At least three today," he said with a wicked grin. She ignored his jest and her brow remained locked. "Do not misunderstand, I desire no commitment. To put it concisely, I wish only to know if I will have you again."

She thought carefully as she retrieved the mask from the floor of his bedroom. She reached around his head slowly, carefully clasping it shut to avoid his wound, locking with his gaze the entire time. "Yes," she answered simply.

"Was that so difficult?" he asked with his muffled voice.

"More than you realize," she retorted honestly.

He didn't argue or pursue her further, but laid back down on his bed as she dressed. She ignored his prying eyes, though they did not bother her as they had the first time. In fact, it was almost enjoyable to her that he wanted to watch her; she could think of no compliment more appropriate considering the circumstances and a partner such as he.

She left, once again avoiding the guards, who seemed not to care that she was leaving his apartment inexplicably late at night. She would have to call for more caution. For now, she was the fiercely loyal royal servant who would do anything in the service of the Allfather or his son, but her reputation would not be enough to quell doubt or gossip for long.

Her horse neighed happily as she mounted its back and began galloping in return to her own home. As she travelled, her mind revisited her answer to Loki. If she were honest with herself, it was a truthful reply, but with cooled blood and sober thoughts, she could hardly consider herself in good mind to want to return. There was a certain refreshing freedom in having decided this ahead of time, but concurrently, there was a sense of danger. It was easy, though humiliating, to explain a one-time event as a foolish indiscretion; an ongoing affair was another story.

As she grew close to her house, she noticed the silhouette of someone at the threshold of her door. Her heart grew cold in panic about who it was, what they were doing there, and how long they'd been waiting. She was suddenly very relieved that she had left Loki's when she did and that she had taken the time to properly redress in her armor.

"Fandral?" she said, recognizing him as she drew closer and he stepped from the shadows. "Why are you here?"

"I was concerned," he admitted, "and my mind would not sleep because of it."

She jumped off her horse and began unsaddling it. "Why?"

"Thor - explained your absence at dinner," he said. "I hadn't realized your falling out had worsened to such a degree."

She inwardly seethed in embarrassment, thankful to the night sky for hiding her blush. "What was it he said?"

"He said you shared a desire for distance. He also asked us not to press either of you further, and so I won't. I only wish to know if there's something I can do. I care deeply for you - and if there's anything I might…"

"Please, stop there," she said quietly. He arched his brow, confused by her meaning. She hadn't wanted his pity before, but considering that day's events, she was appalled at the idea of him doting on her like a wounded child. Perhaps Loki's cynicism was beginning to rub off on her. "You can treat me as you normally would; I have already told you this as my expressed wish."

"How so?" he asked. His expression had fallen at her subtle rejection.

She sighed, defaulting to the only answer she knew would temporarily appease him. "How about a spar? Tomorrow afternoon?"

He smiled softly and chortled quietly, undoubtedly seeing through her transparent attempt. "That sounds fair enough," he said. She nodded, relieved at the opportunity to exercise and his willingness to accept this boundary to their friendship without hurt. "Where - where were you all night? It's nearly tomorrow's dawn."

She dropped her head, looking back towards her horse so he would not see her face. "I went for a ride - to clear my head."

"All night?" he asked skeptically. "How is it your horse is not exhausted?"

"I left late - and rested frequently," she answered impatiently.

"But even then, she does not appear to need to be brushed down," he argued.

"Fandral - I am very tired…" she began desperately.

This did not aid his concern; the look on his face implied that he still did not truly believe her. Yet, he respected her unspoken request and let the matter be for the moment. "Alright," he started, "I will see you tomorrow."

She nodded. "Tomorrow, then."


	10. Chapter 10: Away Mission

It was one of those rare and wonderful occasions when everything fell perfectly into place, as though the four winds and the very ground beneath her feet swelled and moved to her favor. Her joints were loose, her muscles warm, and her coordination at its peak. For the first time in weeks, her limbs moved in perfect harmony, and she was able to show what centuries of training could do in a pure spectacle of her strength.

She had chosen a wooden practice staff as her weapon in lieu of her more burdensome swords, and as it swung through the air, she was able to track the position of both ends and remained keenly aware of her opponents, predicting each of their steps accurately. It appeared her mind was also at its sharpest and was finally clear of the dark storm clouds that had been following her as of late.

Two steps to the right and the momentum from a missed swing left Fandral vulnerable and off balance. She swung at the back of his knees and grounded him. Volstagg came from her rear, using his typical overhead strike to infuse the added power of gravity into his swing. Faster than the untrained eye could track, she pushed the end of her staff into his stomach to stutter his step forward and then hit him on the back. His great weight turned against him, he fell to the ground with a loud thud. Hogan, the more calculated one, came cautiously into her strike range, but she parried his first throw and used his misguided inertia to elude the aim of his mace. A subsequent blow in the weak spot of his armor staggered him; another two careful strikes and he was down as well.

She smiled and laughed heartily as she caught her breath. The sight of her three friends sprawled on the grassy field around her lifted her spirits, and though it had winded her, she had succeeded without knocking a single black hair out of place.

"This is a vast improvement over last week," Hogan said, sitting up and wiping his forehead.

"A rare compliment - I'm honored," she said with a cocky grin, characteristic of the one normally present under Fandral's mustache. She walked over to Volstagg and offered her hand to assist him to his feet. "Are you certain you weren't being overly gentle for my sake?"

Volstagg groaned as he rose. "My Lady," he started breathlessly, "if I were to patronize you in some way, I surely would choose a venue and method far less painful than this."

She chuckled. "Your point is taken."

Fandral remained silent as he sat on the grassy hill, but she could see his uncertain stare from a distance. Their conversation during the previous night had revealed his worry for her, but although she deeply cared for him, his unwelcome intrusion into this area of her life caused her irritation. "Does this victory alleviate your doubt?" she asked, walking up to him. "Have I proven myself capable to you once more?"

His brow furrowed deeply in confusion. "I _have _been concerned for you, but I've never doubted you."

She smiled sadly. "I think you did," she answered, "when I told you I was the one who neglected to secure Loki's mask."

He sighed. "That wasn't doubt in you or your skill - not as much as it was fear that he had manipulated you somehow," he explained. "But the argument is redundant."

"How so?"

"Thor has decided you were correct and the Allfather agreed. Loki's mask is to be removed. They both seemed pleased with the idea that it would free us for other duties. In fact, Thor wants to meet with you tomorrow about a lengthy mission off world."

Sif blinked in surprise, but at the same time, apprehension built in her stomach as she wondered if Thor would follow through on his original threat to reassign her for long term due to her unpleasant interaction with Jane. Despite how hurt she had been by his words, she hadn't thought he would ever go through with it, but on the other hand, he _had_ been acting very unexpectedly since his time on Earth. "Did he say what it might be?"

Fandral shook his head negatively. He took a deep breath, preparing to return to their previous topic. "I'm sorry if I've unnecessarily intruded on your life, Sif," he said. "I shouldn't get so involved in your personal affairs, but in honesty, I don't understand what has happened. It bothers me that Thor may have chosen poorly when he became fixated on Midgard. If I had someone like you waiting on Asgard, I would never look anywhere else."

"You forget yet again that this was all spurred by _my _own choices," she argued loudly. "It hurts me to think one of my closest friends believes me to be helpless when I have worked hard my entire life to prove that I am _not_."

He nodded in understanding. "Then for that, I am sorry as well."

Her shoulders relaxed and she smiled softly, allowing their conversation to end there. There was more to be said, but in the midst of the other two, it was not the venue for it. "Thank you," she said simply.

He stood and cleared the dirt from his armor as she excused herself for water. As she left his earshot, Volstagg limped over to his friend and turned his back towards her for the sake of discretion. "It seems our lady has found her spark once more," he said. "She is back at full strength - and I would have expected her to be more despondent today after her exclusion from Thor's table."

"I expected the same," Fandral admitted, "but this wouldn't be the first time I've underestimated her."

Volstagg nodded with a smile. "Perhaps she has found help from one we do not know. Good counsel can cure much."

Fandral scoffed. "Where would she have gone outside of her closest companions?"

"We _are _close - too close, perhaps, to provide a good ear, and she may have apprehension about speaking negatively about her prince to those who are also in his circle," he argued. Fandral scratched his beard in consideration and Volstagg continued. "Perhaps she has a female friend with whom to share this kind of trouble with, or someone of much _greater_ intimacy."

Fandral inferred his meaning and scoffed. "A lover?" he asked. "No - I could tell, if it were true."

Volstagg raised an eyebrow at his friend's reaction. "Why not? If one man could cause her pride such harm, surely another could fix it."

Fandral twisted his lips. "Well, you're right about that," he said. His eyes landed on her form and he watched her carefully as she wiped the sweat from her neck.

"I know that look, Friend," Volstagg started. "I have seen it in your eye often, but never directed down a path that was so sure to lead to destruction and pain. Let it from your mind; I will beg for this, if I must."

"Why should I?" he asked in a self-assured tone. "Maybe it's time to pursue quality over quantity, and I stand as much of a chance as any man to turn her attention from Thor."

Volstagg chuckled uneasily. "You jest with me," he argued. "She would never cross such a line with you - and it would cause you nothing but grief should Thor ever come to his senses."

"You have no confidence in me?"

"Not in this endeavor," Volstagg answered firmly. "Forget this."

Fandral's normally cocky smile fell as he seemed to take his friend's words to heart. "You really believe this would lead down a treacherous path?"

Volstagg nodded. "In truth, I feel sorry for whomever Sif may take into her heart; he will always live in Thor's shadow, and no matter how she loves him, she will throw him aside for her prince at a moment's notice. It's not a situation I would hope for my friend; it is one I would not wish on my enemy."

Frandral crossed his arms. "You _are_ wise, Volstagg," he said sincerely, "and I will weigh your words with care."

Volstagg put his hand on the other man's shoulder and patted overenthusiastically, causing Fandral to wince. "See that you do. There are none in Yggdrasil that can compete with the wielder of Mjolnir and son of Odin."

* * *

Thor had missed her presence in the short time since he'd seen her, and so his heart lifted when Sif walked into his hall without a note of anger on her features. If she felt it, she hid it well from him. Yet still, her eyes lacked the flame and her lips, the smile she normally displayed when she saw him. As he thought back to Jane, it was a costly price, but it was one he felt was worth paying.

"You wanted to see me - about a mission?" she asked, hoping her latter words served to imply her desire to skip unnecessary and unpleasant topics.

"I anticipate you'll accept it," Thor stated, grateful for this conversational maneuver and the opportunity to avoid discussing too much as well, "but so you are warned - it may prove a challenge to one of your least-favored skillsets."

Her curiosity piqued, she crossed her arms and knit her brow. "What sort of skillset?"

"Jotunheim is in ruin - even more so than it was after the last great war. Their planet is falling in pieces. The Bifrost's exposure has done irreparable damage, but since news arrived of Laufey's demise here in Asgard, they've adamantly refused help of any sort. They are stubborn fools - and it will lead to their destruction."

"We've caused them great harm. I can't blame them for some cynicism," she said.

"Cynicism has little value when their planet is collapsing underneath them," he argued. "We'd hoped to send a liaison to convince the of this fact."

She waited in silence for him to continue, but when he didn't, she understood his point. "Me?" she asked in surprise.

He nodded. "This position requires strength of heart, mind, and body - but concurrently requires one with a gentle façade, one who would not seem threatening to them."

"I thought I gave them plenty of reason to feel threatened by me during our last visit."

He chuckled softly. "You did, but they won't soon admit this about a lone, Asgardian woman," he said. "My father and I could not step foot on Jotun soil without causing chaos. You're the highest member of court I can trust with this task who won't get themselves killed if they were to react poorly to our offer."

"And once I talk them into accepting help…"

"You will need to supervise delivery of supplies. We would ask you to return to help them propagate them into their own systems."

"That will take some time; a long time, I imagine, to even begin to convince them to accept. Is there any other reason for sending me that has remained unspoken?" she said.

He lowered his head, understanding what she might have gathered from his order. "I've tried and failed to adequately apologize for some of my words that night. I never should have implied…" He interrupted himself with a groan of frustration. "You _can _refuse, Sif. You may also accept and come home whenever you'd like. Odin has granted you use of the temporary portal device. You can call for help or return to us at the first sign of trouble. We will have the ability of opening the portal from our side as well. If their stubbornness, or _yours, _should outlast your supplies, I will come for you myself."

She twisted her lips as she considered her choices. "I don't believe that will be necessary," she said, picking up on a tone of worry in his voice she appreciated less than normal.

"If you decide to go, do not react rashly. We are no friends of Jotunheim and I would wager they will not let us forget our… _my_ trespass against them or Loki's treachery. They will likely test your patience several times before progress is made," he advised. He took a soft breath and continued. "I regret sending you alone. It was Odin's suggestion, meant to minimize the threat of your presence, but if it weren't for my father's insistence, I would secure company for you."

"I can handle myself," she answered.

"I know," he said unusually quietly, "but nonetheless, be careful. We have little advice to offer to you, as we remain sorely ignorant of their ways - and I don't know what you should expect."

She nodded, understanding his careful words. They both remained quiet for a moment, a tension present within their silence that hadn't often been there, even in the midst of their original parting so many years before. A question poised itself on her tongue, and despite her discomfort, it begged an answer, preventing her from ending this conversation just yet. "Why is Asgard pursuing such forgiveness from Jotunheim? I would not have thought Odin as one who would go to such lengths to make amends with our enemies - especially those who so steadfastly oppose us, even now."

Thor smiled wryly. "I'm afraid I don't have the answer you may desire. In truth, I'm unsure of his reason myself," he answered sincerely. "I do know that my father has pursued peace with Jotunheim for many years. Even his decision to take Loki from their world so many years ago was spurred by his hope that he would find a bridge between our people. Evidently, he sees some potential in them for reason and peace - though such qualities are beyond my own sight."

Sif's thoughts ventured back to the man whose bed she had recently shared. His body interlocked with hers in a very pleasing manner, but it was still the body of a Jotun. If the king was right, perhaps their nature was not of the bitter, vile creatures she had known in her own experience. A small part of her, a part that she feared to acknowledge, was relieved, for it meant there was a chance Loki wasn't completely the monster she had been raised to fear and hate.

"I know little about them myself. What I know has come from fairytales told to scare children into obedience," she said with regret. "I hope my bias does not interfere with the king's objective."

"It is doubtful there is any in Asgard who would feel differently. You share this disadvantage with us all."

Sif shifted uncomfortably, and a small sense of sympathy rose in her heart for Loki. He had always pursued greatness and used trickery and schemes to get his own way, but it was not difficult to imagine the cause behind the increase in his efforts on Earth and the bitterness behind such actions once he'd discovered the truth. Heritage and blood were the currency of the realm. To have discovered such a truth of one's own origins would easily throw most people into a desperate fugue. The motivations of this odd man were beginning to become a little clearer to her, even though they still caused her great anger.

"I am no diplomat," Sif argued, "and it will take a miracle to convince them of our intentions, no matter how true they may be."

"But I trust you - if you are up for this challenge." She nodded in simple reply. He smiled in relief, not necessarily for the task itself, but that she would accept his words despite their recent trouble. "Then I will need you to leave soon with our initial terms. The longer we wait, the more we foster their hatred and distrust."

She nodded. "Give me some time to smith my weapons and gather my things."

"Thank you - for accepting," he said. His eyes met the ground, wishing he had something to add that wouldn't drive their discussion back to Jane or the distance that had grown between them.

"Is there anything else you would like to address with me?"

He thought for a moment, debating on whether or not it was safe to go further down this path, despite what she'd implied earlier. "No," he said hesitantly.

She bit her lip and looked away. "I will return to you when I'm ready."

Their parting was strange and awkward for two who were normally quite comfortable with each other. Both knew there was much more to be said, and both felt as though they'd left their conversation on an ellipsis, interrupting an argument that should have been finished and a thought that needed to be expressed. Despite this congruent feeling, their silence persisted and she left.

* * *

Cold and darkness surrounded him, sinking through his multiple layers clothing and his skin down to his very bones. He felt as though he had never known warmth, as though he had been bitterly frozen for an eternity without hope of seeing the light of sun again.

Red eyes, fiery as magma set in icy, blue skin followed him wherever he wandered, watching him skeptically as though they suspected him of a great wrong he had not yet committed. He had seen such eyes before, but never had they contained such hate and anger. Their stares cut through him like the cold - as many daggers piercing his skin at once. Never before had he felt so miserable; rest, warmth, and the comfort of food would ameliorate his misery, but they seemed impossibly distant luxuries he would never again enjoy.

The images of this cruel, but familiar world faded to nothingness as Loki returned to a state of consciousness. The darkness dissolved to twilight, the cold lessened its bite. The barren wastes of Jotunheim returned to the shape of his own chambers and the many useless layers of coats disappeared. He was back in Asgard, in the comfort of his room, staring up at the ceiling in great confusion.

He wondered if it were a dream at all; if it was, it was not his own, nor were the robes he wore. Though the images and sensations were quickly leaving his immediate memory, they felt genuine, not like the shadows and blurry figures that appeared in sleep. If it were real, it was a small mystery to him what the effect was, whose perception he was viewing it through, or why it was occurring, though it was still a consequence he had not expected.

He rose from his bed and dressed in a loose robe, walking to his front door. As he reached for his doorknob, his fingertips began to burn as his energy drained from his body, pulled from his core, down his arm, towards the area closest to the enchanted boundary established around his apartment. He tolerated the pain long enough to quickly open his door, but he dared not cross the threshold, lest he lose his faculties and all of his strength. The court magicians had grown cleverer after his first breakthrough in the prison; despite his distance from the edge of their enchantment, he was already growing lightheaded.

"Guards," he called.

The Einherjar, tending their fire from a hundred paces away, approached cautiously with their hands on the hilts of their swords. He had never opened his door to them before and his sudden request for attention made them suspicious of his intent and motivation. "What is it?" one of the two asked, still unwilling to come closer than what was necessary.

The fear in the eyes of the guards entertained Loki tremendously and he didn't hide the satisfied smirk that spread across his lips. At the same time, their lack of formal language stung nearly as much as the enchantments. Odin had not disowned him, least not in any public or official terms, yet it seemed Asgard's distrust of him had worked towards that purpose anyway. He was still a prince, but Asgard did not seem to want to regard him as such.

He put his thoughts behind him for that moment and hid his insult from the Einherjar. "Where is the Lady Sif? I have not seen her in some time."

The guards looked at each other questioningly. After some hesitation, one finally answered, "Do you still require the warriors' attendance? With the removal of your mask, you are able to meet your own needs."

Loki's lips twitched downwardly at the disrespect and the avoidance of his question. "That isn't what I asked."

Discomfort showed in the eyes of both guards. "She is off world."

"Why?"

"It is by the prince's order; that is no longer your business," said the other guard.

He chuckled lowly. "I have not yet tested my power against the extent of my new binds. Such disrespect is tempting to me," he said. "I've been wondering how long I would remain conscience after stepping through this door."

"The purpose of her mission, we do not know," spoke the original guard. Loki could tell he was attempting to defuse the situation, but it served his purpose. "She was called quickly and for something of importance. This is the limit of our knowledge."

He shifted his weight and leaned against his door as he considered the guard's words. "I suppose it is," he said quietly. Accepting the second guard's response, he went back inside and shut his door behind him.

The guard's words matched his theory and his thoughts regarding the reason of his strange vision. A strange feeling of relief also washed over him, though it was dulled with heavy denial. A small voice of worry had begun to bare seed within his mind. She had not graced him with her presence in quite a while and he began to wonder if she was yet another in his life who would break their promises.

His uneasiness was borne as much from his distrust of her word as it was the fact that he missed her and hated himself for it. He missed her skin, her lips, and her breath in his ear and across his cheek. He would almost go so far as to admit he missed her scathing glances and the half-moon marks she left in the soft flesh of his back and shoulders when she became too consumed with her own fervency. She'd been with him only the total length of two nights, but the promise of her welcomed touch in the midst of this season of darkness was monopolizing his thoughts and would not leave him at peace.

For better or worse, she had become his one source of real company. Without her, he was becoming more aware of how isolated he remained, despite the comforts of home. He had not felt so alone since he fought for his survival upon the barren moon he had been trapped on after his journey down the abyss. At this point, he would almost welcome other company, such of that of Thor or his other "caretakers," as they would provide exercise for his voice and his mind, and would give him something to think about beyond his own four walls and the porcelain skin of one he wished to touch again.

At the very least, he had discovered the reason for her absence. With this knowledge, his anger and impatience ebbed. Although he would shortly be reminded of the fickle whims of his partner and the temporary nature of their understood agreement, it did not yet have to end.

* * *

Sif shivered in the cold near her small, dying fire. Jotunheim had no wood or coal to use to feed and strengthen it, and her supply of oil ran out with the birth of this last flame. She tightened the layers of coats around her shoulders as flurries of snow began to fall harder and soak through her hood to her scalp. She felt as though she would never be warm again, but she reminded herself that the portal would soon open to the light of Asgard. She only hoped her greeting would be warmer than the frozen crust of the broken planet on which she currently resided.

The last flicker of flame disappeared into smoke just as the Jotuns left her fireside negotiation table and she wasted no time activating the device. The familiar buzz of dark energy filled the air as the portal back to her home reopened, grabbing her and throwing her through the black vastness of space in a haze of violent, blue power. The blurred image of Thor within the halls of Asgard appeared suddenly as she resisted the dizziness that swarmed her head.

She fought the cold that filled her body and forced uneasy words from her frozen lips. She could already smell the sweet scent in the air of her home and could feel the temperature had warmed significantly from what it had felt like just moments before, but it was still difficult to speak. "They have accepted our offer," she said with a low bow. Without hesitation, Thor smiled and held out his hand to help her up.

The rubber soles of her boots squeaked against the polished stone floor as she stood. Inertia carried her forward, but her numb limbs could not correct for it as quickly as she needed to. She stumbled back towards the ground, but instead of the impact unforgiving stone, she felt the strong security of his arms holding her.

"You're freezing," Thor observed, "I can feel it emanating from you." Her outer cloaks were covered with frost, and even the tips of her hair seemed to shine with ice.

She shuddered in his arms, but quickly worked her way free of his grasp. "I spent weeks on Jotunheim and I still failed to acclimate. It is a miserable place."

"Why didn't you return sooner?" he asked.

She opened her mouth to answer, but just as she began to speak, the sound of Gungnir echoing across the hollow hall interrupted her. Odin approached, and in respect, she stopped her speech and bowed to him.

"Were you successful?" he asked. "Is that why you have returned?"

She calculated her answer; even in her silence, her jaw shook as her body fought to warm up. Water dripped from her cloaks to the floor as warm sunlight from the windows began to defrost the material, but it was obvious her body had yet to return to its normal temperature.

"Even if you weren't successful, it was good for you to come back," Thor interjected. "There are not many who could tolerate the eternal darkness and cold of the Jotun planet for long."

Her brow softened with his compliment, but as was proper, she replied to the king first. "The Jotuns are a remarkably obstinate people. They made a game of our offer and pretended as though they would accept our help one moment only to reject it at the next turn. I tried to remain patient, but I tested our truce when they demanded I beg." Thor shifted his weight in discomfort, and she continued. "They made other demands I refused," she added hesitantly, lowering her eyes to the floor, "but I will not speak of those in detail."

Thor huffed in anger and crossed his arms. "I knew the risk. I should have sent a company with you."

"I was able to cope with it," she argued, "and they did not go as far as to try and harm me."

"Why didn't you convey this trouble earlier?"

"You would have begged my return - and I don't like to fail. In any case, it would have hurt our reputation in their eyes and this effort would have been for naught," she answered.

He scratched his chin. "Perhaps."

"Your Highness," she said, addressing the king again, "they knew the state of my own supplies. It wasn't until I ate my last meal and lit my last fire - until I would be forced to return for the sake of my own survival - did they accept."

Odin nodded and smiled approvingly. "Then it was good that you met stubbornness with stubbornness. You have shown them Asgard's strength in a way they did not expect."

The king's approval meant much to her; it warmed her heart and brought sensation back to her frozen limbs. He paid her a great honor by saying these words within earshot of his son, though he was likely unaware of this.

"It is hoped this will inspire the Jotuns to take further help from us and establish a lasting peace. They are a strong race. If we could make them allies, it would be of interest to ensure their survival," Odin said.

"Allfather, their world crumbles more every day. The planet's core is nearly hollow and the damage cause by the Bifrost has only worsened their condition. It is irreparable. I'm not a pessimist, but I cannot see what we can do to lengthen their survival. Though I'm reticent to share my opinion of such matters, I fear their demise is imminent."

"You're right," the king responded, "as it stands, we cannot save them. One care package may not seem adequate, but it is a _beginning._ Do not undermine your own victory with cynicism. If they were willing to accept our aid once, they will do so again. Eventually, perhaps they will allow us to help them relocate to safer grounds."

"I have thought them monsters my entire life and fought against them willfully and without hesitation. I still find them to be vile and vulgar in their nature, but I sympathize with their circumstances and I find myself hoping you're correct," she said. She tightened her coats around her despite the warm air and the light of the star; the mere memory of the world she had just left had caused a shudder down her spine. Her body had yet to warm up and she could think of nothing but a hot bath in front of a strong, roaring fire.

"It will be a difficult effort," the king started, "and if you would be willing, I will charge you with this responsibility."

Despite the questionable motive for Thor's decision to send her to Jotunheim in the first place, she could not hide her smile or the pride that suddenly swelled within her chest. "Even the offer is a great honor to me."

He nodded. "That pleases me to hear. We will give them some time to work through the supplies they've already been afforded. I will call for you when we are ready to move again."

She bowed at his exit.

"Are you really prepared for this?" the prince asked. "You look as though you were taken from the brink of death. Jotunheim's environment has surely affected you."

"Judge not my health by my appearance. I fared well enough to repeat my tour and would do so gladly if the king requested so."

Thor ran his fingers through his hair in thought. "I know you well, Sif. Stop working so hard to hide every slight imperfection from me." He took her hand in his, an expression he hadn't made in quite some time. As her features changed to sadness, he dropped it, remembering their new places in each other's lives. "Get some rest," he gently ordered, and left her in the empty hall alone.

* * *

It drove him near to madness to surrender to the whims of another. He hated the feeling of losing control, but the softness of her skin easily weakened his resolve and beckoned him to submission. He fought against her search for that power as she shifted her weight; she managed to turn him over despite his stubbornness, but as her hips came to rest on his and the lovely smirk of self-satisfaction crossed her blushing lips, he leaned back, gladly allowing her this temporary victory.

She looked down at him dangerously, her brown eyes adopting an impish glint to which he'd rarely been privileged. He tried to commit the moment to his memory, to remember the look of thirst on her slender face and the enjoyment of her body. For a brief moment, he found himself cursing whatever night they decided would be their last. Regardless of his other unfortunate circumstances, this development was certainly one to which he could grow accustomed.

As he rested his dark head down on the soft pillows of his bed, his eyes began searching and examining her form slowly. Curiosity filled his expression and mixed with desire and a semblance of tenderness that looked almost foreign on his hard features. Her breath hitched in her throat as his simple stare caused her a different form of pleasure than that which his flesh afforded her.

His smile suddenly grew to match her own diabolical expression and he abruptly turned them over once again; she'd had enough control, he impatiently decided. She gasped and frowned at his insistence, but as his weight covered her once more, her silent complaint was forgotten. Heat imbued her, searing every inch of her skin with pleasant licks of flame as his hands and lips moved across her skin, melting the ice that had seemed so permanently frozen in her veins just hours before.

Time stopped and her lungs faltered; his name left her throat in a strange mix of whisper and scream. Euphoria became discomfort as she dug her fingernails into his arm, fighting to hang on for a moment longer. Just as she nearly pierced his skin, he collapsed, resting his body on hers as he fought to regain his breath.

He was uncomfortably warm and heavy atop of her, but she didn't move to push him away or convey her discomfort. Absentmindedly, she gently combed her fingers through his dark hair, sighing as her heart rate began to slow. He moaned when her nails raked his scalp and caused his skin to rise, and kissed her sternum softly, working his way up to her neck and jaw line before meeting her lips once again. She smiled against his mouth. She had missed his unique taste, and in the cold of Jotunheim, she found herself desiring the heat of his hands and the warmth of his weight.

He leaned up from her and looked crookedly at her lips as though he had never witnessed or seen a smile so odd on her features before. He had seemed pleased enough with a smirk when they were enjoying their playful struggle, but he was discomforted by her soft and genuine expression. She straightened her smile and hid her complacency from him. Her actions confused him even more, but he said nothing, daring not to compromise the evening by questioning her confusing habits and the strange way she still acted towards him.

Loki parted from her and rolled over, laying on his back as he stared at the ceiling over him. The rest of the evening had not been such a mystery. She hadn't come to him in her armor as she had previously under the guise of attending to him as a guard would a prisoner. Instead, she wore plain clothes under a simple cloak, and all elements were easily removable in their hurry to unite. She had also entered his chambers via an open window in the common room, avoiding the trifle lies and alibi she would have had to create had she appeared to the sentries in front of his house.

For the first time, she was direct with him, but her boldness in claiming what she wanted was a trait he had always admired in her. He could not deny the unidentifiable pleasure it created in him to know he was the object she sought after. The moment she stepped into his common room, he knew what she desired; he dropped the book he'd been reading and rose from his seat to meet her. The flames of his nearby fire reflected in her eyes to reveal a spark he'd rarely seen; any question or coy comment he had on his tongue died as her lips curled into a mischievous grin sharp enough to rival his own. He took full advantage of her mood.

There was no argument, no discussion, and no games from either of them. Both understood what she was there for, and both silently agreed to avoid muddling the issue by speaking. There was pure clarity between them. Perhaps this was why they seemed to move together with greater harmony than they had before, or maybe their long absence from one another simply created the illusion of it.

When she cooled down and the sweat on her brow began to dry, she turned towards him onto her side. He was angled slightly away from her, exposing part of his back. Hesitantly and cautiously, she lightly traced one of the scars from his flogging with her index finger, examining the way his ribs showed through his skin, and the tone of his muscle across his abdomen. He wasn't as brawny as the type of man she was used to seeing, but the clearly defined lines of muscle revealed the great strength he did possess despite his thinner frame.

His hand found hers and he gently pulled it from his side to prevent her from continuing. She wasn't sure if it was the sensation that bothered him or if he felt insecure about the scars themselves, but as he pulled her hand from his side, he held it for a moment in his own. This was a rare and surprising show of tenderness, and was quite possibly a meaningless measure that he hadn't noticed he was making, but for reasons she didn't understand, she suddenly felt the urge to pull her hand away.

Oblivious to her sudden confusion, he inhaled slowly, preparing the question that had been on his mind, and the one that would help confirm his earlier theory. "Where have you been?"

She looked up to meet his stare, but she hesitated to answer. "I was on a mission."

"I could've inferred that," he said dryly, "but _where?_"

She bit her lip, her cynicism of his motives returning as her heartbeat slowed and her mind cleared. "I don't believe the Allfather would be pleased with me for revealing such information to you," she answered abruptly.

He raised an eyebrow at her curtness. "I'm not asking for the finer details. There is a limit to the number of places you could have gone within his power. I could guess…"

"Why do you want to know so badly?" she asked skeptically, disappointed that whatever had been between them a moment before was now apparently gone. "What relevance is it to your circumstances?"

He moved closer to her and kissed her shoulder lightly, sensing her tension. "I only wish to know what has stolen you from me for such a length of time without warning. I confess - I was beginning to doubt your word that I would have you again." She narrowed her eyes in further suspicion; the sweeter his honeyed words tasted, the more likely they were hiding some bitter motive. "Where did they send Gallant Sif this time?" She sighed and rolled on her back again, remaining silent. "Was it Jotunheim?"

She looked at him sharply, confirming his theory. "How did you…?"

He smirked. "I have still have my own sources for information and despite my idleness, I like to remain aware of the movements of those in power in Asgard."

"I'd like to know what - or who - those sources are," she said.

He would not tell her. As inadvertent as his experience had been in the presence of her waking mind, she would simply see it as another intrusion. He wagered the connection would fade over time anyway and it was not worth inspiring her wrath. "I will keep my secrets and you can keep yours."

She lowered her eyes, having no counterpoint for such a statement. "What have you done in these weeks?" she asked, purposefully changing the topic. "Is there anything I should report?"

"Really?" he asked with a wry chuckle. "You want to do this _now_?" He sighed in frustration, his expression taking a sour turn when her silence confirmed her response. "Nothing. I've read through my library again, experimented with potions…" She leaned up and stared at him as though he'd just confessed to a crime. "Don't be so concerned. The court magicians took all of my _interesting _ingredients long before I was moved back into my chambers." She relaxed her shoulders and laid back down. "Speaking of potions, did you…?"

"Of course I did," she answered quickly.

"So defensive…" he said, " but I'm sure we both want to avoid any little accidents. That would be quite the scandal for a Lady of Asgard."

She ignored his last statement. "Is there anything else?"

He crossed his arms over his chest. "Do you mean to ask if I managed to procure a method of escape and gather enough dark energy to summon my allies? No, unfortunately. Will this interrogation end soon?"

"I'm only doing my duty…" she started.

"You're underdressed then," he said sharply, looking down at her nude form with perplexity and anger, a much different reaction than he had shown just a short time before. "Perhaps you should leave and return with your armor if you want to question me further." The words stung even before they left his mouth and he regretted them instantly. To antagonize her when she was accompanied by her colleagues was one thing, but to do so from his bed would only drive her from it, something he very much wanted to avoid.

She bit her lip, holding back a reply that would escalate the issue. It was clear she had taken his comment exactly as he feared she would. "I think you're right," she said lowly. "My blood is still chilled from my mission anyway, and my own quarters would be warmer than the air here." She pulled off the thin sheet and climbed out of his bed, grabbing her cloak from the floor.

He cursed under his breath and stood from his bed as well. "Wait," he said. She uncertainly paused as he opened the chest at the foot of his bed and pulled out a very thick, large blanket, one she was sure he hadn't owned the last time she had been there. He unfolded it, meeting her eyes as he wrapped it around her shoulders. "Don't tell me you've run out of energy for me so early," he said, attempting to regain his playful tone. He smiled in his usual style, but as his lips twitched, they betrayed the lack of confidence in his words. This was a side of him she hadn't seen since he was an awkward adolescent, and it stirred something within her she very much did not want to feel. "Stay a little longer; I will warm you even more."

She looked unsure of herself and hesitant towards his offer. As the light of the night sky flooded in through the window, her expression changed to one of curiosity. He sighed in anger and impatience. He was in rare form; he had no more sweet words to utter in the attempt to convince her to stay and it was as frustrating to him as having his hands bound. "_What is it?_" he snapped.

Unfazed by his tone, she replied, "The blue in your eyes has faded during this time. I can see the return of your natural color."

He scoffed at her randomness. "What you're referring to is not my _natural_ color, but the result of Odin's illusion," he said, "and of course the blue would fade. It has been long since I was exposed to the Tesseract's power or that of my ally's."

"I am glad to hear that. I think you're better with green eyes."

For some reason, her comment irked him. Perhaps because it indirectly commented on his loss of power and his relative impotence, or perhaps it was because her appreciation was towards an illusion of Odin's design. He lost his patience once more, and again said something he quickly regretted. "And I preferred you with blond hair, but not everything can be what we want."

He visibly flinched as soon as he realized the full implication of what he had said. He expected her to be angry, to leave him and possibly never return in the role in which he liked her best. What he _didn't_ expect, however, was the smile that slowly spread across her lips, or the soft, sincere laugh that rose from her chest in reaction to his self-scorning. He looked at her quizzically, utterly bewildered by her reaction to what should have been an insult and a reminder of a great pain he'd caused her long ago.

She reached up and placed and hand on his cool cheek. "You're not very good with this at times. Even your silver tongue has failed you."

He knew to what she was referring. His speechcraft seemed to oddly suffer in her presence in the midst of this new dynamic. In some ways, he felt again to be that same small boy who had failed repeatedly to garner her attention and admiration. "No," he answered honestly, "but my tongue has other skills to compensate."

She scoffed at his audacity and laughed lightly, cursing the blood that resurged through her body at his mere suggestion. He leaned down and kissed her firmly. Relief washed over him as she returned the gesture. The blanket slipped from her shoulders, unnoticed to the floor and he pulled her back towards the bed.


	11. Chapter 11: Deeper

His eyes opened to an ocean of soft, chestnut hair. A familiar grin crossed his lips as their previous night came back into mind; for the moment, he felt as though his world and everything in it was complete, as though having her next to him took the weight of rule and war from his shoulders. He would be content to be lulled to sleep every night by her lips and the scent of her hair and wake every morning to sight of her small form, but it did not escape him that his time was quickly slipping through his fingers. If she felt as strongly for him as he did for her, she had yet to voice it, but the deadline for their decision was quickly approaching and hung in the air like a dagger above his head.

A single tendril fell from her head across her face. With care, he brushed it gently behind her, resisting the urge to kiss her for fear it would wake her prematurely. His movement defeated his caution; she stirred awake anyway, meeting his blue eyes with her hazel ones and matching his tender smile.

She wrinkled her brow in the fog of her fatigue, noticing the light of the sky through squinted eyes. "I guess we missed the sunrise today."

"Yes," he said, "but these additional moments have brought quality rest I have not enjoyed in some time. There is nowhere in this realm I would have rather been this morning."

She chuckled softly at his overly-romantic response and closed her eyes again.

He stood to dress, reluctant to leave her warm comfort for the cool air and the hard realities of the day; it had been a long time since he'd felt his heart drawn so strongly towards another. However, it was growing late, and if he was tardy for his first appearance of the morning, the reason could be easily inferred. His father would not be pleased, to say the least, if he discovered he had been spending some nights in her quarters, and although Thor would be more than willing to point out the hypocrisy of Odin's anger due to his own questionable history with women, he wished not to invite his wrath on that day. Additionally, the long halls of Asgard had ears, and he wanted to avoid feeding the gossiping hens that often sought him trouble. They would be stirring soon as they attended their business in the palace and might see him leave from her door. Such controversy would only cause more damage to his position with the council, and may further jeopardize certain important relationships that were already endangered by this change in his life.

"Are you leaving already?" arose her voice in the quiet room.

"The day is no longer new - and I have many responsibilities that demand my attention," he explained, "but the sooner I can begin these appointments, the earlier will be my return to you."

"Good," she said, "you promised you'd take me to see the bridge today. I've been looking forward to it."

"Then I shall make every effort to keep my word," he said, leaning down to kiss her on the forehead.

She replied with a gentle sigh and contentedly returned to her sleep as he resumed getting dressed. His heart grew warm as he looked back towards her slumbering form, but at the same time, he drifted towards the edge of sadness. He wanted to boast about her, to brag and speak words of appreciation for her attributes that were unbecoming of a prince and beyond decorum to most audiences, to tell someone how strongly he felt without fear of reprisal or of placing more pressure on her.

Since his role as a leader had become more defined after his youth, he'd realized there were certain things he should not share with even his closest friends, though there were very few subjects he censored from them. Sif's reaction to Jane's presence and their own falling out would also have put them in a difficult position and he wanted to avoid making it any worse for them than it likely already was. Unfortunately, this meant there were no longer any ears within his own realm that would be appropriate for him to speak with so openly about this particular woman.

His brother had been the one with whom he had often shared these moments in life, the one person he felt he didn't have to hide himself from, who could relate to his position as a man and as a son of Odin, but that option was no longer available to him. He had mourned for Loki many times since his betrayal, but it was during these quiet moments that he felt his absence the worst, moments when his brain would automatically think of how he would react or what sardonic quip he would make in reply, before Thor's higher thought would remind him that the man he wanted to speak with had been gone for a long time. He missed his younger brother terribly, so much so that he would not allow himself to accept what he knew was likely true: the man he held to so fondly in his memories never really existed, or had been buried in youth by Loki's deception and his plot against him.

Thor pushed these thoughts and the despair that followed from his mind. There was little sense in continuing to humor this line of thinking when it did nothing but steal his energy from him. There was too much to be done, and a heavy heart would avail him nothing.

The guest quarters within the palace were all aligned along the eastern wall of Upper Hall, several levels below the Hall of Odin and his throne room, and the king's personal chambers. In order to get to the greater halls above them, one had to walk the length of the room from the heavily-guarded southern stairs to the northern stairs, but the quarters were so far to the side, one could pass through the hall several times without ever noticing their ornate doors. It was for this reason that Thor was overly careless, and was spotted leaving her room by one who was more watchful than he'd anticipated.

"Good morning," greeted a cocky voice the moment he'd clicked the door on Jane's room shut. There was no mistaking the owner of said words, or the message conveyed by their tone. Thor turned to find a very humored Fandral standing behind him, his arms crossed as though he was going to scold him like a child. "Long night?"

Thor opened his mouth to prepare an excuse, but as the seconds ticked by, it became apparent that he had none. He shut his lips, unwilling still to say too much to man who was a dear friend. Regardless of Fandral's vast understanding of issues regarding the fairer sex, he had a bit of a loose tongue at times. Anything Thor said to deny or acknowledge his current circumstances would probably be known to his entire circle by nightfall.

Fandral's mustache twitched and curled into a smirk. Despite his own wishes, Thor cracked a smile, which quickly devolved to a chuckle. "What are you doing down here? I thought your business would keep you upstairs today," he asked, avoiding the obvious topic.

"I was attending to a summons from the cooks. They had a question regarding a request from our favorite prisoner," he answered. To Thor's relief, he said nothing further regarding the position in which he'd been caught.

His brow furrowed. "Loki has never taken much pleasure from food," he remarked curiously. "What would he request?"

"That was my thought," Fandral spoke, "and I'm certain they were a bit suspicious as well. He wants wine - a particularly rare, sweet sort. I was going to tell them not to bother."

Thor shook his head. "I know your cynicism runs deeply against him for good reason, but why deny him such a simple luxury?"

Fandral scoffed quietly. "He hasn't returned to Asgard for its niceties."

"No, I suppose not," he said quietly, "but there's a small chance that his lips might slacken if he were given some concessions, and wine is not an unreasonable request."

"If he could use it to his advantage..."

"It's _wine, _Fandral. Don't let your paranoia get the better of you," he said in an interruption. The other man nodded in respectful acknowledgement of Thor's words, regardless of his disagreement with them. "I'll answer the cooks, and meet his request myself."

"Yes, My Prince," Fandral said with a bow.

* * *

Loki had exhausted all methods of entertainment while confined to his quarters. He exercised as much as he could tolerate; sharpened his daggers and practiced, though there was no great distance between walls to provide him with real challenge; and synthesized what useful potions he could from a limited number of components in his private store. Meditation had become tiresome, and his books had become dull after multiple readings. He regularly tried to stretch his powers, but the new binding around his chambers was strong. The glimpse into Sif's alert mind, a complete accident to his own knowledge, was the only shadow of magic he had been able to conjure.

Sif had been an amusing distraction herself, but their bodies would only serve them so many times in one night, and her visits were sporadic. However, it was this thought of her that led to his most desperate attempt to pass time. For the sake of staving off boredom and the claustrophobic feeling caused from being cut off from his power, he decided to turn his attention towards a skill that didn't come naturally to him.

The ingredients in his pot steamed and bubbled intensely. He cursed as it spilled onto the flame below, causing black smoke and a foul smell to rise in his face. This should have been no more difficult than potion-making, but for reasons unknown, he lacked aptitude for it. A knock at the door distracted him as the liquid reached boiling point and more poured over the edge. He sneered at the failed concoction and took it from the flame.

"What is it?!" he called tersely, irritated by this interruption and his failure with a task that most children could learn before they even attend school. No one knocked anymore. As he seemed to have lost his rights to any privacy, the Einherjar and the rest of his visitors simply helped themselves through his door whenever they wanted. Though this was normally a point of annoyance for him, his current visitor would have served him better by following suit.

The door opened; he was wryly surprised by the person at his threshold, but that didn't mean he welcomed his appearance. "Are you _cooking_?" Thor asked in amazement, curling his nose at the strong smell of scorched food that filled his apartment.

Loki huffed in distaste for this latest guest. He thought he had more time before he would be forced to face him again, as Thor had expressed his desire to keep his distance for a number of reasons. "No," he lied.

The Odinson walked in and leaned against a nearby wall casually. He didn't appear to be rushed or attending any matter of importance, which annoyed Loki greatly; he'd hoped his visit would be short. "You've told me before that you derive no great pleasure from food," he said, seeing through Loki's lie, "and I can see why, judging from your latest results. We do employ people of far greater skill that will do that for you..."

He rolled his eyes, growing tired of this inane discussion already. "I have the same basic items delivered to me every day. I thought I would try something different." This was also a half-truth. His attempt _was_ in effort to keep himself entertained. However, Sif had stayed late into the previous night, and the thought had also occurred to him that she might require sustenance after such long and physically-intensive visits. He doubted he could maintain her interests with boiled meat and plain bread.

"You could always ask for something different, Brother. I could speak with the cooks..." Thor said in a casual offer.

Loki's brow flinched bitterly at the name and its combination with Thor's nonchalant tone, as informal as it had been before the truth had come out. "I doubt they would appreciate making a custom menu for a prisoner," he said dryly.

Thor chortled softly. "You thought enough of them to request a different wine," he said, putting the bottle he'd been holding on Loki's table. "A sweet red - I've never known anyone other than Sif who has enjoyed it."

He held his tongue regarding Thor's mention of Sif and redirected the conversation. "You didn't come as an errand boy. Why are you here?"

Thor sighed and scratched the hair on his chin. "I have not yet grown accustomed to living without a brother. I have missed your presence and thought we might talk - as we used to."

"How touching," Loki said flatly.

Thor moved to the hearth and sat down, putting himself in Loki's direct eye**-**line. He did look up to meet his stare, but his features held nothing but snide contempt. Thor ignored his expressed bitterness and grew quiet, calculating his next words, something he didn't often take time to do.

"There have been many changes here since you've been gone," he started. "Aren't you even curious about what has happened in Asgard during this time? What has happened to those you lived with and who loved you?"

While he considered his reply, Loki noticed Thor's informal state of dress. His iconic cape was absent, as was Mjolnir. He wagered this was his attempt to avoid looking threatening. It might have also been an attempt to foster an illusion of equality, as Thor knew without his magic, Loki was unable to change into his ornate armor easily, and was stuck in the clothes he normally wore under it.

"What makes you think I'd care?" he sneered.

Thor sighed and looked down. He changed tactics, surprising Loki, though he still found nothing but stupidity and arrogance in his attempts to relate with him as he did in their previous life. "Do you remember when we changed the sugar in the kitchen for salt?" he asked. Loki didn't respond. "The entire court went without desserts and breads for a week. And the stunt we pulled putting lightning eels in the cook's fish tank? I've never come so close to dying during one of your pranks."

"Is there a point to this? We have been down this reminiscent path before - and though my circumstances have changed, my mind hasn't."

"You look more like your old self, healthy and of good color. I have been sentimental for what you once were and it is a relief to see you look the role, even if it is not the truth. I wish you would spin your words as you used to; you seemed back then to know what to say to appease Father's anger."

"You want me to make Odin think I'm remorseful when I'm not?" Loki asked with a wry laugh. "You've taken to lying then, have you?"

"Of course not, but…" The argument died quickly on his tongue. "Father misses you as much as I do. It would not take much to earn back some grace and live with us as you did before."

Loki laughed again, earning Thor's confused stare. "You're the second person who has commented on my state of appearance - that my green eyes and the restoration of the warmth within my skin must mean I'm returning to a state of health and happiness like that of what I enjoyed before," he said mockingly. His voice and volume climbed sharply as he said his next piece. "You've all forgotten what was '_before'_ was an illusion; underneath this Odinspell I am the repulsive, vile offspring of your enemy - a Laufeyson - and since the day I heard Odin confess you as his heir, I have not been complacent or 'happy' chasing your shadow. 'Before' was a _lie_. What you see now is closer to truth, no matter how disappointed and full of pity it leaves you."

"So that is it then? You have forgotten our love for you? The years we spent together? The fact that father saved your life and adopted you as his _own son_?"

"Oh, I remember your love," Loki began, his voice lowering to the level between a hiss and a whisper. "I felt the extent of it forty times against the courtyard stone and I have the scars to serve as permanent reminders of just how much you've missed me."

Thor's lips fell into a deep frown; the day Loki returned was likely the most difficult time he would ever experience in his long life, and he had yet to completely cure the guilt he felt for his part in the punishment, regardless of the fact that it was mild when compared to what Loki truly deserved for his actions. "The plight of the victim does not well suit you," he answered lowly. "Do not expect me to express regret over your circumstances, for even if you were to earn a single stripe on your back in recompense of each life lost during your attack, you would still owe far too many to ever repay."

Loki chuckled, his voice adopting the deep, menacing tone that caused a knot to form behind Thor's neck and a weight to sink within his gut. "They're mortals, Thor. Even the ones we sleep with are not worth that price."

His mind drifted back to the bedroom he'd just left, and the hazel blanket of hair across her pillow. "You're wrong," he started, "and if you'd release your blind hatred, you'd remember the worth they displayed when they opposed you."

"Ah, right - the Avengers," he said with a dry chuckle.

"Not only them - the mortals who stood up and fought the Chitauri as they attacked their city, the people of New Mexico who aided me..."

"Is that the voice of reason, or of a satisfied manhood?" Loki interrupted. His abrupt and vulgar question successfully cut off Thor's thought. Logic assured him that there was no way Loki had discovered Jane was in Asgard, but the fear was still rising in his heart that he would find some way of using her to his advantage. "Would you have ever cared to defend them if it weren't for the feminine company you found there? You profess your own reform to Odin, but love has made you even more careless and stupid than you were before, and Asgard will bear the burden of it."

He took a deep breath, willing down the anger that boiled in his blood. An outburst was what Loki wanted and would prove his assumptions about his changed heart correct. Thor did not press the argument further, as he was in no mood or the state of patience to redundantly cover what had already been said. He slowly rose from his seat and walked towards the entryway. "Regardless of your assertions and your continued obstinacy," he began, "I will do what I can to leave the door open for your return to us. My patience runs thin and my hope dwindles, but you _are_ my brother - and I love you."

"You are a fool," Loki snapped.

Thor chuckled and opened the door. "Undoubtedly," he said simply. Despite his exit, Loki knew this conversation was far from over.

* * *

As the sun set across the plains and mountains of Asgard, Sif excused herself from the company of her subordinates and left to ready herself for a different sort of appointment. She removed her armor and let down her hair; she bathed and rubbed small drops of fragrance behind her ears. She felt confident he would take her in any condition, but fresh from a long, sweat-soaked day in training wasn't how she normally chose to present herself to those with whom she planned to be intimate.

She was quite out of her right mind to think of their arrangement as anything that resembled "normal," but she acknowledged her lack of sensibility in this regard fairly. This was not a normal relationship and Loki was far from the average lover. He didn't care to impress her, dote on, or woo her with any gestures or meaningless words and he never pretended to feel for her any more than what he showed through his actions - and yet, she didn't care. Attempting to shoehorn their unorthodox agreement into anything that exhibited normalcy felt a bit like trying to house train a savage wolf. Part of her wondered if she was taking on more of a challenge than her strength afforded her. It rarely left her mind that the consequences would be great if, when the inevitable time came to part, she had permitted herself to grow too fond of him.

She let this fear from her thoughts, convincing herself that there was little reason to worry. It was purely physical; Loki would never allow himself to feel more, and her pain from Thor's rejection would harden her heart and guard it sufficiently. If this didn't work, surely the fresh wounds of Loki's betrayals would keep her from ever desiring him for anything more than his body - so she believed. As her mind drifted, she recalled the glow of his skin and the green tint in his eyes. It brought her heart joy to see him return to health, and his gesture, the simple provision of the comfort of a blanket for her sake, was evidence to support her hope that the monster he had become had lost some of its stronghold.

She reached for the horsehair brush on her vanity and her reflection caught her eye as it crossed the mirror, though she hardly recognized it as her own. A soft smile, subtle, but apparent to her own eyes, appeared on her lips. She paused in wonder, for she hadn't realized she was making such an expression. As though she was afraid she would be seen despite the privacy of her own chambers, she wiped it off her lips, changing it to a frown of displeasure at her own reaction. She continued to dress, though the troubling revelation remained prevalent in her mind. She was certain Loki would take easy advantage of such a weakness if he ever saw it, even if it ended this strange arrangement. She would have to guard herself more carefully.

The last rays of light hit the top of the palace and then faded to pink as the star finally set. Under the shadows, she rode her horse quietly towards the palace grounds, avoiding the main paths whenever possible. She housed her horse in the palace stables, as the keepers were used to her coming and going at all hours and would not find the presence of her horse odd. From the stables, she walked a large half-circle across the royal yards to his house, avoiding the eye of the Einherjar guarding his front grounds. She would have to enter through his window again, but he would make it worth her trouble.

Feeling a bit like a mischievous adolescent during a hormone-filled rendezvous with her forbidden lover, she entered his darkened apartment. She knew better than to think he wasn't there, but she still managed a gasp in surprise when he placed his hands on her hips and pulled her abruptly into him.

"I didn't think you'd be back so soon," he said deeply and softly in her ear.

She smiled widely, enjoying the rush his trick and scare had caused her. "Should I leave?" He didn't answer, but kissed her neck as his response. She sighed and reached up behind her, stroking his scalp with her nails and enticing a deep moan to sound in his throat. "Why are you sitting in the dark? And why is there a smell of smoke in the air?"

"A failed experiment," he said with a tone of evident frustration, "and it's dark because I fell asleep and let my fire die. Is there anything else you need to ask? I'd rather stop talking."

After his verbal bite from yesterday when she had asked too much, she decided it was best not to push him further, but the glimmer of green and red from his table caught her eye in the faint light of the room. "Is that - sweet wine?" she asked curiously. "I believed you abhorred it."

"I do," he answered, "but I thought I would keep a supply - for guests."

She pulled herself from his arms and turned to meet his stare. Her eyes narrowed and she looked upon him with doubt.

"_What_?" he snapped. He hated feeling as though he was wrong when he obviously wasn't, and he loathed how she looked when she stared at him like that.

"I'm not used to your thoughtfulness," she answered truthfully. "Is it so strange for me to regard it with some hesitation?"

He chortled despite himself as he replaced his hands on her hips and began to push her towards his couch. As they slowly walked, his fingers moved down to her abdomen and undid the belt around her robes. "I _am _capable of being thoughtful - when the motivation is right and I stand to profit from it."

"Is it your wish then to intoxicate me?" she asked, her lips pulled slightly upward to reveal her jest.

"If it helps," he answered, matching her dry tone, "though I hardly think it necessary at this point."

He kissed her neck again. Before she could censor herself, her earlier smile reappeared on her mouth and she laughed softly. He seemed not to notice or care and laid her down on the soft cushions below, meeting her lips hungrily as he pulled the robe from her shoulders and slipped his hand under the hem of her shirt. There was heat to his touch, though it surprised her at how deeply it penetrated her. Not only did it set a fire upon her skin, as it had so often in recent nights, but it seemed to create a warmth in her chest that was familiar - and frightening to her.

She pushed him back gently and frowned, her brow furrowing unpleasantly in her own confusion.

"What is it?" he asked impatiently. With some concern, he took his hand from her skin in fear that he had been too eager and forceful with his grip, the red marks he had left on her hips flashing through his mind.

She fell silent as a question bubbled towards the tip of her tongue. It was a question she didn't know how to ask of him though - and one she wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer to. Part of her doubted he even had the vocabulary within him to respond. As soon as the desire to know appeared, it disappeared, replaced instead by her internal argument for simplicity. Her wish would never vanish that he would return to the man he was before, or at least the man he pretended to be, but she had enjoyed him thus far without such redemption. He would only see her as a hypocrite, she realized, for expecting anything more from him than what he had already offered.

She pulled the shirt loose from his belt and over his head. "It's nothing," she lied, and kissed him deeply to seal her deceit. Her hands raked up his chest along the contours of his form, and as they moved around his body to pull him closer, any thought towards her strange behavior left his mind.

* * *

The sun set long before he ever returned, and despite his promise, she'd spent most of the day alone. It shouldn't have bothered her; she felt she was better than that. Still, his absence emphasized one of the reasons she was resistant to coming to Asgard: she felt useless outside of his company. The world was still so new and strange, and she had little doubt the people felt the same of her. The palace magicians and others who invited her to join them on occasion welcomed her cordially, but when she was left to her own devices, she felt like a clueless tourist.

The queen had noticed her pacing around the palace by herself earlier that evening and had taken mercy on her, inviting her to a small dinner between the two of them. They discussed trivial matters and shared an insight or two on Thor and his likeness with his father; Frigga also offered her the reason why his schedule had remained so demanding that day. Despite this new comfort, however, the queen was still very guarded and vague regarding certain subjects. Jane understood some secrecy when it came to the matters that affected Thor's role as a prince, but concurrently, she felt some suspicion that there was still a side to him she wasn't seeing.

She stood near one of the large windows at the end of the hall, looking out to the vast city below her. The fires lining the streets illuminated the pathways along the horizon, making it look like rivers of gold, not unlike the large metropolises of Earth and the way the major roadways glowed at night. She pushed back a sudden rush of homesickness. It was ironic to her that while she was home, she spent much of her time isolated from others in front of a computer screen, looking out to the stars as though she wanted to be anywhere but on her own planet. Now that she had been gone, she found herself missing the annoying interruptions of the interns and students at the school, the harsh, headache-inducing lighting over her computer, and even the simple joy of a good latte. Sif had been right; Thor was trying his best to give her everything, but what she most wanted at that moment was a night in her own lab and a view of home's constellations. She was being selfish.

"I owe you a profound apology," Thor's voice sounded from behind her.

She turned from her view to greet him. Despite the subtle smile on her lips, he could see the shadow of irritation in her eyes. "Tough day?" she asked dryly.

He sighed. "As for my excuse, I have none to give. The hours were ripped from my fingers by a number of issues, but in retrospect of it all, none of it was worth breaking my promise to you."

Her smile grew into a legitimate, sincere form and the impatience left her eyes. "It's okay," she said quietly. "I had dinner with your mother; she said you were busy."

"'Busy' is an understatement," he said with a light, dry chuckle. He brushed his hair from his face with his hand, and she could see his weariness in his eyes.

"Are you okay?"

He leaned against a nearby pillar and crossed his arms. Despite the alarmingly short distance of the pillar to the long drop off down to the side of the tower, she stood next to him, resting her head on his shoulder. "I'm fine," he said, "but the day began with a misstep on my part - and it only diminished from there."

She bit her lip, unsure of what to ask or how much he would volunteer. "Is it anything you want to talk about?"

Initially, he shook his head, but the more he thought about it, the clearer the memory of the words Loki spoke became, and his desire to share his troubles with her grew stronger. "I saw my brother this morning," he said. "He made some - offensive assertions regarding my motivations surrounding certain choices I've made." He stopped his words there, unwilling to specifically repeat what Loki had said about his new relationship with Earth.

"I'm sorry."

"Make no mistake - this is nothing new," he said, "but it has reminded me of what I've lost in Loki's treachery - something from which your presence has blissfully distracted me."

Jane didn't know how to respond. Words seemed inadequate, especially considering how little she knew of the greater influences in his history and his love for his fallen brother. She remembered the book she brought from Earth, but the text itself confused several relationships and didn't adequately reflect the depth of love the characters seemed to share for one another. There was much to be desired in Earth's record of these "mythical" beings, and so she had little context. In lieu of her verbal comfort, she took his hand. It seemed to work a little, as the sadness in his eyes faded slightly.

"The council has been no better as of late," he began again, spurred on by her warmth. "The elders have never appreciated my precipitancy, and no matter how much evidence I supply of my change, they are inclined to remember only my mistakes."

"Maybe they just need to see you in action," she suggested. "They haven't really seen how you deal with crises since you landed on Earth. You'll prove them wrong in time."

He smiled at her attempt to assure him, but it did little to relax the tension in his muscles that had formed since the morning. "I would hope so, but it has been my recent decisions that have caused them the most pause."

"Like what?" she asked.

"My new commitments to Earth in the midst of the approach of a large threat to Asgard, for one," he said. His temper remained cool, but she could hear a strain to his voice and sense pain he felt in his heart at his people's criticism. "They believe my attention is too divided to focus on our coming war and our own defenses; they've implored Odin to take this responsibility back from me for the sake of Asgard's wellbeing."

She sighed through her nose, knowing there was more to this than what he was saying, most likely having to do with her. "Well," she started uneasily, "how much power can they have over the prince?"

She was nervous she had overstepped her bounds, but his light chuckle eased her fear. "They own not much - and when I inherit rule, I will take some of what they have from them. However - the elders represent different groups of the people who rely on me. They will _always _have my ear, and I would lose all favor with my people if I disbanded them completely," he explained. "It is not the elders I so fear disappointing - it is the people for whom they've spoken."

"I don't know why you're worried. I think you've made some good decisions and - even if they can't appreciate it, Earth does. We would've been lost without you."

"Jane, every trouble I've cured, my brother has caused. Every fallen stone and shattered window on Earth - every _death - _is due to my own ignorance," he said.

She had nothing to offer to refute this argument. Her eyes fell to the ground. "What happened between you and your brother? You haven't told me everything, but judging by the way you talk about him, he's more than just a jealous sibling."

Thor realized she was right. She'd had one of the first to view the beginning of Loki's betrayal, but he had only shared pieces of the entire story. Loki had been a large part of his life and regardless of how reluctant Thor was to admit it, he still owned some influence over his decisions. "It's growing late - and it's a very long story."

"I like long stories," she said softly.

He could not help but match the smile on her lips. He suddenly felt even more regret over the fact that he'd lost an entire day of their ever-shortening time together. "I'm sorry for breaking my promise," he repeated.

"Thor - I've learned more about you here in these last few minutes than I would've all day at the bridge - and now I'm about to learn even more. This is why I came," she said playfully, "and we'll have time for the bridge later."

His blue eyes shined in the adoration he felt for her at that moment. He leaned over and kissed her gently, unable to show his true gratefulness through his words. Without hesitancy, he began his tale, beginning in his childhood, and the joyful memories he shared with his brother and family. He had been pained that morning by the loss of real company, someone he could share with who wasn't bound by loyalty to him, and someone who wouldn't patronize him or withhold criticism. Although losing Loki left a far bigger gap than anyone could ever fill in his life, Jane's was an ear he had sorely needed.

* * *

His breathing was slow and steady as it stirred around her shoulders and down her bare back. Sif found it very tempting to relax beside him, but she didn't want to sleep and jeopardize their secrecy should she stay too long. She debated on leaving despite her comfort. The return trip to her quarters would take a while and she was still recovering her energy from her trip to Jotunheim; staying any longer would only rob her of sleep. For the moment though, his bed was warm and soft, and she found herself pleased by his company after weeks of solitude among the cold people of Jotunheim. The irony didn't escape her that the body she found so comforting was one with Jotun blood flowing through its veins.

She turned around very carefully as not to wake him and watched him during his rare slumber. Even in sleep, his brow was set together and his lips curved into a deep frown, as though he felt his anger as intensely in his dreams as he did when he was awake. Despite his sour expression, he resembled more the man she'd known in her youth and less the race of giants with whom she'd spent her last few weeks. It was difficult to reconcile the two images into one. She tried to imagine traces of intricate, clan-specific scarring along blue skin and those horrible, red eyes staring back from his features, but the picture wasn't clear to her, nor did it seem natural on his face and form.

The dissonance caused by this thinking bothered her stomach, but not as much as her foolishness from earlier that night. With the fires of desire cooled, she was embarrassed by her earlier thoughts. She missed his attention, the weight of his body, and the way his want of her made her feel about herself - but he was still a traitor to everything she'd ever fought for; no pleasant feelings could ever exist for him that weren't driven by physical need or the pull of her own vanity.

Sensing her contemplative stare, he flinched and woke up, his green eyes filling with confusion for a moment before he was able to differentiate this reality from what he'd been dreaming.

"I should leave," she said.

"So early?" he asked with a tired sigh.

"Early? It's after midnight already."

He put his hand on her waist and pulled her hips closer to his. "If you would permit me a few minutes, I could make it worth your time."

She silently considered his offer for a moment. Despite her recent thoughts, a small smile spread over her lips. "I am spent," she answered, "and it would be less of a risk for me to leave in this dark hour."

His eyes reflected understanding, but he didn't respond. She rose from her position and sat on the side of the bed as she retrieved her clothing. He leaned up on his arm and traced his finger down the line of her spine. "Will you return tomorrow?"

"So soon?"

"I would have you every night."

She bit her lip and considered his words. "That sounds exhausting," she said with a light chuckle.

He laid back down with a sigh. "I would enjoy meeting the challenge," was his retort, "and I know you would find the energy somewhere."

"It could complicate things," she said honestly.

His frown deepened with concern as though he'd never considered it before. "If you continue to insist we sneak about like a couple of children, I suppose it could," he said. She rolled her eyes, ignoring his quip; he already knew the reasons she desired secrecy. "But the guards in front of my door are overconfident and you are a _trusted_ Lady of Asgard. I doubt it would place you in any greater risk than what you've already wagered."

She pulled her pants over her hips, drawing his vision to the marks along her waist. Most had faded to yellow during her absence, but some were fresh. His earlier intention and efforts to avoid such bruises seemed unsuccessful. It disappointed him that he was such a failure at controlling his own fervency, but he had wanted her for a long time, and his initial excitement at finally having her had yet to diminish.

"Do those hurt?" he asked.

She pulled her shirt over her head and flipped her hair out from under her collar. "The bruises? Are you actually concerned?" she asked, turning to meet his eye before he answered.

He shook his head negatively and took his time to formulate his response. "As I said before, I'm thoughtful when it's beneficial to me. I ask only to avoid driving you away."

She raised an eyebrow. "If it impeded my pleasure, I would tell you," she answered.

He lowered his eyes, his brow furrowing in contemplation, though there seemed to be a shadow of insecurity in his eyes that she had thought a figment of her own imagination. "Would you be so forthcoming if there was a change to this routine of ours?"

The question had caught her by surprise. She hadn't thought he would be the type to care. "Why?" she asked, trying to maintain a tone of humor in her voice that would disguise her true suspicion. "Why is it so important for you to know in advance? Is it so you may plan ahead on how to use it to your advantage?"

He opened his mouth to argue, but found it difficult to contradict her subtle accusation. "No," he said with a trace of his grin. He leaned back on his pillow, realizing her questions would not have been satiated by his overly simple response. His mouth opened silently again as his brow arched and softened in a way she hadn't recently seen. As his original answer died on his lips, his scowl returned. "I can ignore this thirst for flesh for a very long time, if it's required of me. I have gone years without the warm form of another in my bed. Now that this has been roused from its dormancy, I wish only to know if I will be abandoned in this rut, or if I may look forward to these engagements in the future."

"Change can happen quickly, even in our long lives," she answered after some thought. "I will do what I can, but I have no guaranty and you have not earned the right to anything more than this vague promise."

He remained staring up at the ceiling, his lips curved downward as he refused to acknowledge or reply to her words. She sighed, partially in relief that he did not press further, and partially in frustration that he would offer nothing else. It was wrong of her to be angry with him for being this way; she knew ahead of time that he was far different from any other partner she'd taken. Still, he would make this confusion of hers easier if he would not be so suppressed. In some ways, his reticence was evidence that he was as guarded against her as she was of him - though since they were both constantly working against the other's best interest, this wasn't completely beyond understanding.

She could guess the motivation behind his request, but he offered no clue for confirmation. He felt his family had abandoned him during his time in his ally's company - and as erroneous as that perception was, he was, _perhaps, _trying to protect himself from feeling that pain once more. In their silence, the same question that had been in her recent thoughts pressed on her mind once again, but she was content now not to ask it. The very act of voicing such an inquiry would shatter the rules of this game, and it was far too enjoyable as it was to desire anything else.


	12. Chapter 12: The Opening Secret

The words had slipped from his tongue in an effort to keep her for longer and assure her quick return, and so when Loki had stated he wanted Sif's company every night, she had little perception of how genuine he had been behind the guise of this pseudo-jest. Whether he'd intended on it or not, their new pace had been set by this simple comment, and Sif remained as steadfast as she could in her attempts to keep it.

Weeks went by and she found herself at his window after setting of nearly every sun. She rarely enjoyed an uninterrupted night of sleep in the span of this time, and she was growing tired of the long journey and effort that was required for avoiding the eyes of those watching his door. Still, she found that his following remark had been equally true - he had risen to the challenge of this tempo, and she'd somehow managed to find the energy for him.

Her frequency was less drawn by a feeling of obligation to meet his request and more by her own selfish need for the silent compliments his physical attentions paid her. From her first step within the walls of his chambers, he would hardly allow her to catch her breath in a moment disconnected from his own skin. She'd prided herself in having many suitors in her youth that looked upon her with such thirst. Once they shared her bed, however, the desire in their eyes would gradually fade as they grew use to her and her offerings, but in Loki, it seemed unceasing. Every night he gazed at her as though he was seeing her for the first time and held her in apparent fear that she would suddenly slip through his fingers. This intensity in his desire for her acted as fuel upon her own.

In return for her frequency, he used care in seeking her enjoyment as urgently as he sought his own. He measured her reactions, studying the feedback she offered him as though he were still an inexperienced student. His touch had lost its blind desperation as they became more accustomed to one another, but it developed careful intent instead. The purple marks on her hips and waist faded and disappeared entirely as he remembered and practiced how to hold a woman with gentle security instead of with a selfishly-driven possessiveness. As a result, their time together burned more intensely and sweeter than it had when they were still new to each other.

Though this experience left her with little to regret physically, the threat in her own heart grew ever stronger. She thought less of Thor in private ways and the pain they shared regarding their past didn't burn her heart as the injury first had. Although she was still very aware of the time Jane spent within their realm, the mortal's relationship with their prince was no longer the primary keeper of her attention. Instead, she found herself distracted by the pale, thinner frame of the one who was nearly opposite of the man she had loved her entire life. She began preferring the sight of hair as dark as midnight over that as bright as the sun, and had developed a curiosity about the profound differences he held from everything she had once considered "important" in a man.

In many ways, they had grown to know each other in a far closer capacity than they ever shared before. Despite this new understanding, his thoughts and motivations were still a mystery to her; she guarded herself for the possibility that his sincerity and passion towards her was limited to the flesh and that he could throw her to the wolves in a moment, if he thought it to be to his advantage. His often disparate treatment of her on various nights did nothing to clear her perception or ease her concern. On some nights, he acted relieved when she left, as though he was eager to reclaim his own space. Other times, he acted possessive towards her, and would antagonize her with dry jests if she tried to leave too early for his tastes. Then there were nights when his displeasure at her parting grew beyond passive-aggressive sarcasm; it was on these nights that her confusion worsened and the pleasant illusions created by their fervent coupling grew thin.

She sighed as she watched the sky lighten through his window. She had fallen asleep, something she tried to avoid in his chambers for fear of being caught off guard should someone enter unannounced. He had followed shortly after her. His breath came steadily against the skin of her shoulder; he was pressed against her back, his knee resting between her legs as his arm circled around her waist and went up so his hand rested on her sternum. His entire form molded to hers, but there was no carnal desire in it, only a need for her presence she didn't entirely understand.

Fearing the day would grow older beyond her watch, she shook him lightly. He stirred and woke, but did not move. "Are you leaving?" he asked quietly. She could feel the vibration of his deep voice against the soft flesh of her shoulder.

"Yes," she said simply.

"It is early, still."

Sif smiled at the repetition of this argument and found it oddly charming. "No, it's late," she stated, withholding the humored tone from her voice. "We've slept away our time - and now the morning light threatens my concealment."

He groaned and opened his eyes; the pink sky of sunrise confirmed her words. "Damn the day," he said, his voice cracking as he began to wake. "If it weren't for the rising sun, I would have you again."

She chuckled softly. "And if I had any sense of feeling remaining in my lower body, I would let you."

He smiled in self-satisfaction and kissed her shoulder. His grip on her form did not loosen. Instead, he further wrapped his leg around hers. Normally, she would be intrigued enough by this almost playful mischievousness to stay, but as the shadows in his room faded, panic grew in her mind.

"I need to leave now," she said. "If I were to be seen…"

He seemed to ignore her, moving his hand about her body as though he could entice her to stay despite her protests.

"Loki…" she began again.

He interrupted her with a groan and rolled onto his back, releasing her from his tight grasp. She sat up and began to dress.

"Yes, I know," he started sardonically, "you would be ruined, your life would be forfeit, your very honor would be questioned by even the most decrepit of Yggdrasil's citizens." He sat up and moved behind her. "All of this because you dared to bed _me_."

His comments were meant to antagonize, perhaps for the purpose of driving her to feel guilt. His hyperbolic words caused the opposite; she laughed quietly as she pulled her shirt over her head.

This perplexed him, but he didn't express it. "Will you be back tonight?" he asked.

She sighed and answered hesitantly. "I am due in Jotunheim again soon and I'd rather not be falling from my post in exhaustion while I'm there."

He could infer her meaning. Though he didn't require as much sleep as she did, he'd found himself napping during the hours of the day, a definite sign that they were both having difficulty keeping up with the physical demands of their activities. "You wish for a night alone?"

"Yes," she answered impatiently. "We will both be better for it, I think."

He smiled wryly. "Fine, take your night - even two," he said. "If I might have you at full strength, it will be worth the trying of my patience - though my bed will lose much of its warmth because of it."

"I thought you liked it cold," she said in jest.

"Hmm…" He lightly traced his finger along her bare arm. "Perhaps I'm finally acclimating to the heat you bring me when you're here."

She smiled at his admiration of her, even though it was concealed in the slippery speech Loki often used to protect himself. In a moment driven by a force she did not know, she leaned towards him hesitantly and kissed him. It was soft and tentative, nearly chaste compared to what they had shared before, for it held no potential or desire to lead anywhere else. She felt only a small amount of tension in return and pulled away. As they parted, he stared at her lips in uncertainty, his pronounced brow furrowed deeply as he tried to ascertain why they had tasted so differently from before.

"We have both surpassed weariness," he said, excusing the odd measure and his subsequent confusion on fatigue.

She inhaled deeply and stood. "I suppose we have," she stated roughly, obviously discomforted by what had passed. The sign of her embarrassment rested on her cheeks and she was thankful it was concealed by twilight. She grabbed her coats and threw them over her arm without taking the time to wear them. Loki didn't respond, nor did she say another word before exiting his window into the morning light.

* * *

The sound of metal scraping metal and enthusiastic conversation filled the small hall in one of the palace's lower levels. The untrained, unfamiliar ear might have mistaken it as a friendly spar, if it were not for the sounds of slurping and belching mixed with the smell of freshly-charred meat. Fandral watched his friend with amazement; despite having known him for many years and witnessing his manner of gorging himself many times, it was still a source of continued astonishment for him.

With a crunch, Volstagg bit into an animal's leg the size of his own head. He chewed twice, then swallowed roughly to speak. "I fail to see the logic in it, but I'm not one to easily question the Allfather's wishes."

"I don't intend to question him either," Fandral said quickly. "I simply don't understand it. Why go to so much trouble to save a planet that has caused us such difficulty - one we've nearly destroyed on more than one occasion ourselves? And why risk the life of one our own in the slight hope they may accept a handful of supplies that cannot possibly make a measurable difference in the welfare of their realm?"

"Is your concern founded in the complexities of Asgard's history with Jotunheim, or are you worried more for Sif?" Volstagg asked. "Have you not yet buried your hopeless plan to turn her eyes from Thor?"

Fandral chuckled and leaned back in his chair. "I know not of what dangerous words you speak, Friend. I was only musing to myself before and meant nothing serious by it. But I am concerned for Sif. The wastes of Jotunheim are no place for one as fair as she - and that dying race is not worth her company."

"She is loyal to the Allfather," Volstagg said, remaining silent on his suspicion that Fandral was not speaking the entire truth of it. "She would swim the rivers of fire on Muspelheim if he so willed it. It is pointless to worry on her behalf for orders she would obey without hesitation."

Fandral was about to retort, but the sound of near footsteps stunted his thoughts on his argument. Garik the archer appeared at the door. His eyes were low; he had heard what they said. However, Volstagg's focus was on his food and Fandral was too lost in this dispute to notice how troubled the archer's expression appeared.

"Young Garik!" Volstagg greeted energetically. "Yours is a face I have not seen in awhile. How fares your family?"

"Very well, Sir. Thank you."

"And your wife? Isn't she due with your child soon?"

Garik smiled at his kindness and the memory he had of the important happenings in the life of a subordinate. "She delivered very recently. We have added a girl to the brood."

"Sit," Fandral said, motioning to an empty seat. "That is happy news, but I doubt it's what brought you here."

"I meant no intrusion." He took his chair, his confidence dropping as the subject changed.

"It's of no offense," Fandral assured him. "We weren't discussing anything of which you haven't already been informed."

The lesser warrior set his hands on the table and stared down at them as he considered his words carefully. "I felt as though I had acted irresponsibly towards Asgard and her king when I surrendered my duty as Loki's guard due to his threat on my family," he began.

"It was easily understandable. There were no ill feelings towards your decision," Volstagg spoke.

"I had hoped not. Still, I felt obligated to do my part to ensure Loki's security, as it was entrusted to me by Prince Thor himself. I have - been looking in on him, on occasion, from atop a roof roughly 200 hundred paces from his southern wall. It's unguarded, and though I know of the restraints on his quarters, I thought my eyes would be the most helpful from that point."

Fandral looked oddly at Volstagg. "Your diligence is appreciated, but he has been silenced to the point that we've removed his binding mask and have released his guard to the Einherjar. This may very well be a waste of your time."

Garik's eyes fell to the table. "I've had that thought as well. My vision is exceptional at night, but even I cannot see anything but blackness beyond the threshold of his window," he explained. "In my watch, however, I have witnessed something odd occur in more than one instance. I feel it's worth my report, though I'm not certain if it's my place." He paused for a moment to plan his words. What he was about to speak included a great accusation against one of high office. It didn't bear well with him to recklessly confess it.

Fandral chortled when the other man remained quiet for longer than expected. "Well - what is it that has stirred such great suspicion within you?"

"He has entertained a visitor - one who has purposefully circumvented the guards and under the cover of darkness, always enters through his southern window. She remains there for several hours, and leaves only when the threat of daylight begins its approach."

Fandral laughed suddenly, surprising both Garik and Volstagg with his humored reaction. "Are you certain it's a woman?"

"Quite certain," he said. He sighed deeply. He had not yet gotten to the crux of the issue and the real reason for his decision to report to Fandral and Volstagg specifically instead of going directly to Thor. He'd watched the same faceless shadow arrive and leave Loki's chambers a number of times. Originally, he hadn't cared enough to follow her or make an effort to learn her identity; one woman was less to worry about than ensuring Asgard's enemy was sufficiently caged. Since she brought no apparent threat against him or the guards that watched him, he only made note of it and took no action against her. On her most recent trip, however, she had made an error in judgment and had stayed until the first hints of morning had appeared over the horizon. In the dim light, he could just make out her features - enough to see her face.

"Do you know who she is?" Fandral asked.

Garik took a long breath, heavy-hearted over having to share this information with two of her closest friends. Still, due to her station and her close proximity to the throne, he felt pressed to reveal her. Just as his mouth opened, Volstagg cut him off, granting him a small reprieve. "What does it matter?" he asked. "There is nothing in Thor or Odin's orders that prohibits him from guests or visits of - a _personal_ nature. What business is this of ours?"

"If she's helping him…"

"Fandral, outside of the royal family themselves, _no one_ would have access to any resources that could lend him actual aid. The Allfather has given us his own word on this," Volstagg argued. "She would have to own a greater potential for magic than the palace magicians and Loki himself in order to threaten the barriers that hold him."

Fandral sighed, conceding to his point. "That is true, but I also wish to know what brand of woman would lower herself to him - and how much he must be paying for her," he said. There was a hint of bitterness to his tone, marked by Volstagg, who knew him well enough to tell the difference between this and his normal humor.

"And I simply want to avoid spoiling my appetite," Volstagg added. "I have never had _less _desire to know the details of someone else's love life."

Hearing these words gave Garik a better mind for what may have resulted from his report. His hesitancy to share this information doubled, and he began to reconsider his choice in this matter.

"The king could hardly be troubled by such trivialities and I doubt Thor would want to know either," Volstagg continued to argue. "Just tell us Garik, is there any chance this guest could be a threat to him or to Asgard?"

He paused before answering. "No," he said in truth, though he contentedly hid the unspoken issue.

Fandral sighed in disappointment, but Volstagg happily replied, "very good. Keep us informed if anything further should develop."

Garik stood and bowed respectfully, keeping Sif's secret in silence for the moment.

* * *

Jane's strange dreams continued to plague her while she slept. Images of a forgotten war and a long-dead hero-king filled her slumbering mind. The smell of steel and coppery blood filled the chilled air as his beast-like enemy swarmed him. Although the challenge seemed insurmountable, he vanquished them all in one mighty blow, as he had in her last visions.

Just as before, however, she found herself separated from the king and the relative safety of his strong arms. The beast with an eye for her blood had targeted her from a distance once again. The sharp chill of terror traversed her spine, into her arms and legs, freezing her where she stood. The beast lowered its horrible head and began running toward her, but she remembered the spear within her reach and found it on the same spot on the ground, beneath a fallen enemy. However, unlike her previous experiences, she didn't reach for it; she couldn't. Her body failed her as fear seized her mind and heart. The beast rushed her, but she could only hold her breath and await the blade of his weapon.

She opened her eyes with a start, thankful to find that her central fire, along with the light from the window, illuminated her surroundings enough for her to regain a sense of reality. A large, heavy arm suddenly enveloped her tightly, startling her again. She laughed audibly at her own nerves and turned on her side to meet his sleepy gaze.

"It is late. We should leave soon if you would like to see the sunrise," he said in the midst of a yawn.

She smiled. " I think I'll pass today."

"Is everything alright?" he asked in concern.

A soft smile spread across her lips. Even after these past weeks, he was still very concerned about making Asgard seem faultless to her. "Everything's perfect," she assured him, "but we stayed up late with your friends and I need more sleep. Plus, there are some things I wanted to do while I'm here - if you're okay with that."

He yawned again and turned on his back. "What sort of things?"

She hoped he wouldn't ask for too many details. "I want to get out of the palace. I'd like to see your marketplace again - and maybe buy a souvenir."

"Do you wish me to accompany you?"

She kissed his cheek. "No, I want to go alone. You attracted a lot of attention last time, and I kind of want a quiet afternoon. I don't want to take more of your time away from your duties here either."

He smiled in understanding. "Very well, but use the palace charge if you wish to purchase something. I will give you my seal as proof of my approval."

"Thanks, but that's not necessary," she said, misinterpreting the cause for his offer.

He chortled. "It is if you wish to purchase something - unless you've brought our currency with you. Considering the provisions you've given me, it hardly makes us even," he argued. He rose out of bed and began dressing so he could return to his quarters early and avoid prying eyes.

"Well, thank you," she said. "Is there anything I can get for you?"

"Not unless one of our people has discovered coffee," he joked.

She chuckled. "Asgard's one flaw."

He laughed warmly and leaned down, kissing her softly on the lips. "No one is perfect, Jane Foster," he said. She smiled widely against his mouth. "Take care to remain within the city walls, for Asgard's wildlife may be somewhat overwhelming for you, and call the Einherjar if you encounter any problems on the streets. Odin has worked to fulfill most of his people's needs, but we are imperfect, just as Midgard, and there are still those who wish to steal and cause others harm simply for their own amusement. Also, caution yourself against..."

"I get it," she said in an interruption. "I'll be careful."

He sighed and slipped his shirt over his head. "I know you will."

What Jane had told him was mostly true. She did sleep in a bit that morning and spent most of the day in the city among the realm's people in the marketplace, where she learned even more about this strange society. Their poor were either invisible or non-existent; even the tradesmen who would normally be considered less fortunate in other cultures were well-dressed and regal in their manner. Most seemed to be generally happy, but it struck her that they were a very closed culture. She overheard the same criticism of Odin, Thor, and the council that most Midgardians shared for their governments over trivial matters. It caused her to wonder how many of these people were aware of what threat was currently stealing the sleep of their prince, and the preparation of Asgard against an enemy they had never seen and did not know.

For the most part, her day was pleasant. Most Asgardians failed to notice she was any different than one of their own. The few merchants who saw the seal of Thor realized her identity, but reacted only with mild surprise and regarded her with respect. Once and awhile, her ear would tune in to a whisper or rumor about her presence in Thor's company, but she did her best to ignore it. She expected them to find her strange, and wonder about the reason for her visit to their land.

There was an errand Jane failed to disclose to Thor - one that would not be nearly as pleasant as an afternoon of shopping for trifles and small gifts. It had been weighing on her mind and she felt she couldn't continue to ignore it.

* * *

Sif normally would have gone to the palace to share updates with the Three over a drink or afternoon meal, but despite her nostalgia for the halls of the palace, it still denied her its welcome. Even though Thor had given her a warm reception after her return from Jotunheim, she was certain nothing in his mind had changed, as she knew nothing in hers had. Though the golden towers felt more like home than her own chambers, she believed her continued distance would be best. Instead of following the pull to walk upon the marble floors lining the Hall of Odin, she opted to return to her empty apartment.

Part of her was grateful for a quiet, early end to her night. She had already told a cantankerous Loki that he would not have her for company, and she was looking forward to taking a long bath, perhaps reading, and then getting the first full night of sleep she'd had in some time. Rest would serve her well, and it may also have improved her thoughts and mood surrounding the events in her life and the various players within.

As she rode up the pathway and around the curve to her quarters, she saw the Einherjar and his horse at the front of her property. "What's wrong?" she asked in some alarm, closing the distance in a gallop in worry.

"Nothing, My Lady. I'm simply here as transport for your guest," he said, pointing towards her front steps.

"Jane Foster," she said in surprise, jumping from her horse. She found she was actually somewhat disappointed that the Einherjar had not come to summon her to some dire and important matter. "What are you doing here?"

"Do you have a couple of minutes?" she asked uneasily. "I think we should talk."

"I do," Sif said with a nod. "Help yourself inside. Give me a moment to water and stable my horse."

Jane did what she asked and let herself in as Sif began to take the saddle and reins off and put them in her stable. Her horse huffed happily as she gave her food and water, but Sif regretted not being able to give her the full brush-down she was hoping to. Curiosity was burning in her mind, and she wanted desperately to know what it was Jane had to say to her. If it was a rebuke, she was a bit late, though Sif wondered if Midgardian customs were different for these sort of issues. She set out water for the Einherjar's horse as well and did her best to straighten her appearance before entering her house.

"Can I offer you something?" Sif asked courteously.

Jane sat down in her common room and removed her bag from her shoulder. "No - thanks," she said, nervously clearing her throat.

Sif sat across from her, somewhat relieved that the other woman openly showed some trepidation. She could empathize with her discomfort, and felt more at ease about her presence. "What is it you want from me?"

The harsh way in which Sif broke the ice caused Jane to nearly flinch. She sighed and dropped her eyes to the floor. "I - I'm sorry - about what happened with Thor on the day he brought me here." Sif shook her head and was about to say her piece, but Jane continued. "I tried to explain to him - that he overreacted and you were just being protective, but…"

"I appreciate your concern," Sif said firmly, interrupting her, "I mean no offense, but it would be better if you did not interfere. You can't possibly know or understand the context behind what has happened."

"But I do - a little," she argued. She reached into her bag and pulled out the book on Scandinavian mythology she had earlier shown Thor. "Our stories aren't exactly as thorough as yours, but they cover the basics. The myths say you were married to him - and Thor told me this isn't far from the truth."

Sif's face softened. "I was unaware he had revealed anything to you regarding our past. I didn't think he'd want to burden your with the mistakes we both made during that time."

"He didn't have to," she said with another sigh. She opened the book to the marked page and handed it to Sif, who looked down at it with confusion.

Sif's lips curved upward momentarily, but fell again. "But these runes... is that supposed to be me?" she asked, pointing to the image on the page of some frightfully large and unreasonably masculine woman.

"More or less," Jane answered dryly. "My guess is whoever shared your stories with Earth's ancient cultures wasn't aware that you hadn't gone through with it when they were recorded," she explained. "It doesn't really say anything in detail about your relationship - and what's there may not be right. Thor said our mythology is full of inaccuracies and creative liberties."

Sif flipped through some of the pages, vexed by the poorly-drawn, almost childish depictions of the respected people within her realm, but curious about what the humans believed about them. A woman who shared a small segment of a section regarding Loki caught her attention, but she quickly closed the book to avoid lingering too long. "May I borrow this?"

"Sure," Jane answered. "Some of the captions are in your language, but if you want to know what the rest of it says, l can read it for you. Some of the others have seen it too."

"You didn't come here simply to show this to me," she inferred.

Jane lowered her eyes once again. "No - I just wanted you to see where I was getting my information," she said. She crossed her arms and started again. "If this was Earth, I wouldn't even be here - but I've learned a lot about how you value your relationships in Asgard and - how long they last is evidence to that. Thor told me once that you've been friends since you were children. I don't want to be the one responsible for that ending."

"You want me to make amends with Thor," she observed. Jane nodded affirmatively. "Why?"

"Because I care about him," she answered firmly, "and I've seen the look in his eyes when he talks about you. He misses you."

"He told you this?" Sif asked quietly.

"No, but he and I have gotten to know each other since I've been here," she said with a soft smile. Sif's heart sank with these words, as she understood their unmentioned meaning. "I'd like to pretend I'm just good at reading him, but unlike any of the guys I've ever dated, he doesn't try to hide himself from me. He doesn't need to say it; it's written all over his face."

"I see," she said, clearing her throat as she attempted to will away the lump that had formed there. "You must realize this cannot be done by just one of a two-person party…"

"He _did _try - and you brushed him off. I think he would try again if it weren't for me, but - he must think I'd feel threatened, which I don't, by the way," she added quickly. She looked up and met Sif's eyes. "I care about his happiness - and having you as a friend again would make him _very_ happy. I trust him enough to know that's where it would end."

"Your trust is well-kept," she said lowly.

"I thought so too."

Sif rested her elbow against the arm of her couch and considered Jane's argument. Her heart ached for the friendship she'd lost and the other relationships that had been affected by the drift between her and Thor. She felt almost foolish for allowing it to continue. Equally so, however, she wasn't sure she possessed the strength to idly watch him grow close with another. It was easier said than done to put one's pride away.

One positive Sif could not ignore was that the one who held his attention had proven herself kind-hearted. Thor had made the Midgardians sound rash and often abrasive, but her soft confrontation had required patience with one who had lost hers, consideration for someone other than herself, and thoughtfulness towards her words. More importantly, she had put Thor's needs ahead of her own, a sign that she finally understood the importance of his position, and the profound meaning behind the approval of her admittance to their realm.

"Regardless of my friendship with the prince, Jane Foster, I owe you an apology. That you would go to such lengths to protect his happiness proves your care for him. I should not put myself at odds with one who would treat him so well," she explained. "I sense you love him as I do - and though it may seem odd, I am relieved, for I know his heart will be in good hands." She looked down with these last words and hid the pain she knew was evident in her eyes.

Jane smiled softly, her brow arching in sympathy. She understood how it felt; even with the amicable dissolution of a relationship, it could be very difficult to watch the other move on.

"Thanks Sif," she said. "I know you may not believe it, but your approval means a lot to me."

"I misjudged you. I thought you reckless when you stated your desire to leave after such a short time, but you have stayed much longer - and have garnered the favor and love of my friends. You have paid Asgard respect in that manner; the least I may do is return it."

The warmth that Jane felt for Sif's words died as suddenly as it appeared when her mind was able to process exactly what she'd said beyond her kind intent. "What do you mean 'much longer?'" she asked, almost interrupting her.

"Upon your arrival, you had said a few weeks was all that you could spare for Thor, but that has passed, nearly twice over, and still, you remain."

Jane put her hand to her head in confusion. "I've been here for more than a month?"

"Easily," Sif answered. The trouble on her face was evident. Whatever this had meant to her was obviously profound. Sif wondered if she shouldn't have censored her words, though she still had no idea what had caused such a reaction. "Is there something wrong?"

She stood from her seat suddenly. "No, I just - I should go," she said.

Sif missed the double meaning behind what she'd said, assuming she was referring to the late hour. Before she left, Sif added, "I feel I owe you for this trouble. When you are ready to prepare for the tests, I will do what is in my power to aid you. I give you my word." It had been a difficult offer for her to make. Though she wouldn't have understood this, Jane's reply confused her.

"Tests?" she simply asked.

Sif's confusion doubled. Her expression fell. Had Thor failed to forewarn her of this great challenge that would surely lie ahead? The tests would be a nearly insurmountable trial for anyone, let alone a Midgardian woman. There was little sense in delaying Jane's ability to prepare by withholding this information from her. "Yes," she answered, "the tests to prove your worthiness to the Gift of Idunn - and to the throne."

"The Twelve Labors of Hercules?" Jane asked sarcastically, a wry smile twisting her lips, even though Sif's explanation had caused her more stress.

Sif's brow furrowed with complete puzzlement. "I'm not certain..."

Jane bit her lip, obvious discomfort rising to her features. "I'm sorry. It's nothing. He just - didn't tell me what the next step would be. This is catching me off guard." She ran a hand nervously through her hair. "Thanks for the offer. I'll let you know."

Sif leaned against her entryway as she watched Jane depart with the Einherjar. She was utterly at a loss for the reason why Thor would not have been forthcoming with Jane regarding Asgard's expectations of her. However, she did not fully understand Midgardians or their habits; it was possible she had merely misunderstood.

Despite the perplexing nature of Jane's visit, Sif's heart was lightened. The impact of her absence made it evident that she was missed. She could not disguise the nostalgic smile that formed on her lips as she thought about returning to Thor's right arm.

* * *

Jane's stomach had formed a hard and heavy knot the moment Sif had mentioned how long her visit on Asgard had been thus far. Panic was rising in her chest, stealing her breath as she walked swiftly through the long hallways of the palace. If Sif was roughly correct, then it meant she had already stayed much longer than what she had arranged for on Earth. Caught in a whirlwind of this surreal experience, she had made a mistake that could cost her the career for which she had worked her entire life.

Dazed, perplexed, and worried over the possibilities of what may be waiting for her when she returned, she walked into the dining hall completely prepared to ask him what she had to do to return that night. However, her words died on her lips the moment she saw him waiting for her.

Thor, the entity written about in Earth's poems and legends, had opened the entire galaxy to her, putting it at her fingertips. In doing so, he shunned custom, risked civil disruption, and opposed his nearly omnipotent father for the sake of bringing her there. Yet, as the warm smile spread across his lips, and light filled his eyes, she realized all he had ever wanted in return was the opportunity to know her better. The urgency of her demand cooled as sadness enveloped her. For the first time since her arrival, she felt completely torn in two; she had always assumed he would take her back to Earth at the time of her choosing, but now that seemed like an impossible choice.

"Did you enjoy yourself today?" he asked, greeting her with a kiss on her cheek.

She cleared her throat and nodded, hoping to hide the dissonance she felt. "The city is amazing."

He brushed her hair back; she realized how odd it was that her lips curved up involuntarily at his touch, despite her internal argument. "Is this new?" he asked, holding up her arm to inspect the gold band around her wrist.

"I know - it's huge. I thought it looked nice on the shelf, but…" she trailed off. "I hope you don't mind. It's the only thing I used your seal for besides lunch."

"It's a trifle matter compared to what you're worth," he said, kissing the top of her hand. He expected her to laugh or to move towards him to kiss his lips as she had done in the past. She only smiled, its brightness dulled by a source he did not know. "What's troubling you?"

She hesitated, searching for words. "How long have I been here?"

He shook his head as he counted back. "A month - perhaps half more."

She sighed deeply and took her hand from his. "I only planned for three weeks."

He chuckled, failing to understand her. "I assumed you were biding your time - delaying your return intentionally. I am delighted you've decided to remain here for longer."

"Then why does it feel like I just got here?" she asked. Her tone and volume climbed; Thor was beginning to finally understand the seriousness behind her question. "I feel like I'm off by a month."

"It is said that time flows differently in Asgard than it does in the mortal realm, though I have not experienced the sensation of it myself," he said. "Does a mere week or so really matter so much?"

"Yes - because I have a _job_ and people who _depend_ on me. I'll be lucky if my stuff isn't on the street corner when I get back," she argued intensely. Her voice quieted once again as she felt a shadow of guilt for aiming her frustration towards him. "I messed up, Thor."

"Are your employers really so merciless?"

She rubbed her temple with her fingers; he didn't understand her, but she couldn't place the entirety of the blame on his shoulders. He had no context around the way their culture worked, and his upbringing as a member of the highest class in his own world most likely added to his ignorance. "They're not employers - they're worse. They've paid me a lot of money to bring them the results of years worth of research. What results do you think I've harvested in the last month?"

He ran his fingers through her hair and rested his palm on her cheek. "You've travelled the galaxy and have lived among the people of another realm. Surely you can bring them something of value."

She rested her head against his chest, falling into his embrace. "You would think so," she said dryly, "but every inch of Asgard defies the very laws of physics. There's nothing here I can relate to Earth without years of study and all of my equipment."

Thor sighed, enjoying the warmth of her before asking the one question he didn't want to hear the answer to. "You want to return, is that why you're troubled?"

She nodded. "I'm sorry." Thor scoffed softly and she could tell there was an argument brewing in his mind that he would not allow himself to speak. She lifted her head from his chest and pulled away to look in his eyes, begging a response from him.

His mouth opened, but no words came. He looked out the window towards Asgard's star, his chest filling with jealousy towards the world that beckoned her away. "I had hoped to sway your decision by now," he indirectly answered. "Perhaps just another week or so…"

He looked at her hopefully, but mist began to gather in her eyes, washing down his optimism. "What difference would it make? I can't make the decision to leave everything in my life behind right now."

"It would make a difference, Jane. Every day you remain here, Asgard grows to know you better. As the will of my people change, so does that of my father's," he explained. "I have softened Odin's heart towards the idea of your presence here before and I may do so again. A little more time may help my efforts. Please, stay for a while longer. Permit me to prove to my father the worthiness I've seen in you this entire time, so we may not be so confined to the limitations of this one visit."

Her features softened. "But another week… my job…" she attempted to argue.

"If your benefactors abandon you so quickly, I will visit them with Mjolnir at my side and use all of my power to compel them to change their minds," he joked. She laughed, but at the same time, wondered if he would actually follow through on his jest.

"Thor…"

He interrupted her with a brief, sweet kiss. "If this is truly the beginning of our parting, I wish only to delay it as long as possible. Just a little longer, Jane…"

She smiled softly. "A little longer," she agreed.

* * *

"…and she was _so_ hideous, the citizens actually petitioned to have her banished to Niflheim." The group chuckled at the conclusion of Volstagg's story. "Honestly, how could one man have so many children who are so - _perverse_? I know we're speaking of Loki, but…"

"I don't know if that's fair to say," Fandral started with a laugh he tried, but failed to repress, "Sleipnir turned out well."

Volstagg laughed and slapped him on the arm. "True! How could I forget him?"

Sif joined in their merriment, entertained by her friend's method of storytelling, even if the subject was particularly disturbing. "And this Midgardian book," she said, pointing to the volume laying on the table in front of her, "all of this is in here?"

"Yes, and you should have Jane translate it to you. What you've heard from us is only a small portion and the section on Loki alone is worth your time," Fandral answered. "It's very - enlightening."

"Do not place too much faith in a book of legends and myths," Thor said from the doorway of the smaller, corner room in which they often met. "It's full of falsities and exaggerations - and many of our relationships are - misrepresented."

"Yes, I think they are," Sif said knowingly.

He pulled out a chair to sit down. As he made himself comfortable, his eyes met hers for a moment, an air of sadness in his expression she had rarely seen. She dared not ask him about it, it wasn't her place, but she couldn't help her thought that it was her sudden reappearance in the palace after her adamant insistence on distance that had bothered him so. He was obviously surprised at her attendance, but his silent tongue implied he had no quarrel with her presence. Perhaps she was wrong.

"How did you come by the Midgardian book?" he asked, dropping his eyes to the table in front of him.

Her smile fell. She suddenly felt her boldness was foolish, though she had hoped it would allow her the opportunity to speak with him to mend their friendship. "Jane gave it to me. She thought I would be interested in some segments of it."

"When did you speak with her?"

"Just yesterday," she answered. "_She_ came to _me_," she added quickly in her own defense.

He shook his head. "No… I - I was just curious, that's all."

Sif's brow wrinkled in confusion, but she didn't press the issue further. The heavy change in mood was noticed by the Three, but none said a word to disperse the thick silence for a long moment. Finally, Thor spoke.

"So regarding the events of this week," he started, clearing his throat. "Are there any reports?"

"Due the recent threat, the metalsmiths have increased production by ten percent in order to adequately gird our current forces and those coming out of the academy. They have also begun experimenting with other metals that can create stronger blends or are available in greater quantities. They hope to have something definitive within the year," Hogan stated.

"Good," Thor replied, "but tell them to reduce their efforts by half. There's no need to burn through our resources before we know what we may be facing." Hogan nodded in acknowledgement.

"Folkvar's family has sent a note of gratitude to you and the Allfather for sparing his life after his attempt to assassinate Loki," Fandral started. "He has graciously accepted his demotion and has been stripped of his title, as you've ordered. They await word on whether or not he will serve time in prison."

"I won't have him serve, but reveal it not to him or his family. It will serve him better to fear it as a possibility. Ensure his new post keeps him at the far side of the city at all times and tell the Einherjar to apprehend him if he is seen on palace grounds."

"Yes, Sir," Fandral said.

"Speaking of Folkvar," Volstagg said, "Garik has taken it upon himself to guard Loki's southern wall."

"Why? He resigned that post," Sif said, a feeling of sudden nervousness rising from the pit of her stomach. Garik often worked at night due to his keen vision in the dark and his ability to remain unseen and unheard if he wished. It was quite possible he had been on shift during one of the many nights she had visited Loki through his window.

"He feels it's his personal duty after his brother's treachery. I admire his initiative," he said.

"I feel it may not be worthy of his time, but if he so wishes…" Thor started.

"Actually, he already has something of worth to report - an interesting development that may cause you concern."

"Oh?" Thor asked with a light chuckle. "Loki has been severed from his magic, and he has taken up strange, new hobbies as entertainment to fill his time. What kind of trouble could he possibly be causing?"

"He has had a visitor to his chambers during the night hours - a woman," Volstagg said.

Sif's stomach sank suddenly as the air left her lungs and the color left her cheeks, but Thor was too stunned to notice the panic crossing her features. "What?" he asked in disbelief. "You jest!"

Volstagg chortled at Thor's strong reaction and shook his head. "It is no jest, My Lord. She enters his southern window and leaves before sunrise. She has avoided the guard's sight this way."

"Does Garik recognize her?" he asked.

"No," he answered. Sif had to stop herself from exhaling in relief. "There is, in fact, some argument regarding her identity. As you have not explicitly barred him from female company, I feel it's not worth our efforts or worry, provided he remains in his quarters. Fandral believes he may use her for nefarious purposes, and so feels we should investigate further."

Thor leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. "He hasn't openly taken a woman in some time. I had wondered if he was still interested in them. I hadn't entertained the possibility that he might have had someone," he said. He scratched his beard in thought. "I_ am_ curious about her."

"I agree with Volstagg's position," Sif said, breaking into the discussion suddenly as she tried to remain stoic in her appearance. "She might also prove to be a distraction from his normal mischief, in which case, we should let her be."

"Sif, I would think you'd want to know what kind of tart would betray her own honor," Fandral spoke with a wry chuckle.

Sif's eyes fell as heat rose to her face, but she abstained from reacting for fear of revealing herself.

"Harsh words," Thor spoke, "She is still a sister of Asgard and we know nothing of her motivation."

"She is a whore - and a cheap one at that if she's willing to couple with a traitor," Fandral stated, his words dripping with bitterness. "If she isn't, then we should arrest her. If she's not being compensated, I'd wager there is evil in her intentions."

Sif's hands shook in anger as they rested in her lap. Fandral was blind to who his words were really directed towards, but she was sick with the idea they would not change, even if he knew the truth.

"Enough," Volstagg interjected. "You're just concerned that Loki may have found the one woman in our realm you haven't had yourself."

His bitterness temporarily left him and he chortled. "Perhaps; I'd hate to tarnish my record."

"I can see the value in both of your arguments," Thor said. "I think we should look into it and question her if we're able. If not, it doesn't worry me. Sif, this is probably a job better suited for a woman. Would you investigate and find out what you can about her?"

"Certainly," she said. She could feel her heart rate slow and her blood cool. Thor had inadvertently saved her honor with this assignment. Still, she would need to speak with Garik and find out what he knew.

The Three finished their business with Thor and left. Sif was about to follow when Thor called her back. As the hour had grown later, his troubled expression hadn't improved. Her heart grew heavy with fear that he might send her further from him, or might express displeasure at her unexpected attendance to their meeting.

"Thor," she started, nervously rubbing her palms together, "I shouldn't have come without announcing myself. I've missed my friends and these gatherings - and I made a wide assumption that I would be welcomed here as I once was. I am sorry."

He rose from his chair and walked over to her, leaning down to her level so he could softly kiss her on the cheek. As his lips lingered there, she closed her eyes, savoring his scent and the bristles of his beard upon her skin. "Sif, you are always welcome here, even if I do a poor job of making that evident. We were _all _very happy to see you."

She opened her mouth to ask him why, then, he seemed so despondent, but she still did not feel it appropriate. Her soul warmed to hear these words. For now, this was pleasant enough to leave her content.

"So," she started, clearing her throat, "what is it you wish to discuss?"

"When could you be ready to return to Jotunheim?"

"A day or so is all I would need."

"Then do what you require."

"So soon?" she asked in surprise.

"My father believes they should not be left idle for too long. We should press them firmly to accept more and we'd ask that you would introduce the idea of relocating from their planet to another realm. The earlier we mention it, the more likely they may be to eventually accept these conditions when the time draws nearer."

"I will do what I can," she said. The Frost Giants would most likely laugh in her face when she brought up the issue. In fact, she wagered they would rather stand upon the crust of Jotunheim as it collapsed than relocate. However, she wouldn't voice her thoughts to Thor until she was sure they would decline.

"I realize we're asking what may be impossible," Thor said, echoing her unspoken thoughts. "But - I think they will listen to you. I also wanted to thank you for looking into my brother's friend."

Sif swallowed hard. "It will be a small matter to find her," she said, regretting her words after she'd spoken them; she wasn't sure how she was going to find a way around such a promise without exposing herself.

He chortled. "I cannot picture him with a woman, given his latest changes. His bitterness and hatred of me seems to consume him as of late. I thought he would not have room for anything else in his hardened heart - and for a woman of this realm to give herself to him after what he has done… I can only surmise they found each other before his fall."

"Perhaps he cares not for her as much as you think he does," she offered. The sick feeling in her stomach returned. Blood burned in her cheeks and she turned her back to him so he would not see.

"Possibly, but he is capable of strong attachments to others," he argued. "Did you know he had feelings for you when we were children?"

"I had an idea," she answered, trying her best to sound humored.

"Every woman he's ever been with has either been scared away or tossed aside after only a short time - and he has not had one in so long I thought he had given up." He sighed and looked out the window, scratching his head in thought. "I think you and Fandral are wrong. He is taking a risk with her and she with him. I doubt either would do so unless there was something there."

"You assume too much, considering the information at hand," she said, though his latter words caused her stomach to turn for reasons she couldn't identify. "We don't even know how long they've been seeing each other."

"You know nothing of Loki's history with women, do you?" he asked with a laugh.

"I've never paid attention before," she answered honestly.

"Well, it matters not," he said with a smile. "In any case, she will probably serve to distract him and raise his spirits, as you have said, so I am content to leave them be. It will be a comfort to know her identity though - and ensure she is cut off from offering him help of an unscrupulous nature."

"I will do my best with this task as well," she said.

He smiled. "I expect no less," he said. She turned to leave, but before she reached the door, he started again. "Sif - I have missed your voice and your smile at my table. Please don't let it be so long before you join us for another meal."

"Thank you, Thor," she answered sincerely, "I won't."

* * *

After her meeting with Thor, Sif went home and changed into unassuming, neutral-colored robes. Although she had every reason for visiting the home of a fellow warrior in the residential district, she wished to avoid attracting attention to herself for this particular mission. The garb of nobility, a common sight in that area, would be far less conspicuous than her full, easily-recognizable armor.

Her horse clopped slowly along the damp, stony streets as she searched for a familiar marker that would indicate where exactly she was within the matrix of the city. The sun was nearly set, casting long shadows across the doorways of the houses. She had forgotten which was his street, and as the night obscured the door numbers, she feared she would have to return on a later day. A long time had passed since she'd been in that area of the city, and the winding streets painted in strange shadows would easily confuse someone who wasn't entirely sure where they were going.

Just as she was about to relent for the evening, the soft cry of a newborn infant filled the air, directing her to the correct home. She tied her horse and knocked on the door; a lovely young woman answered, holding a baby in her arms. Sif smiled kindly, surmising it was his wife and his daughter, who had been born only a week or so before.

"Can I help you?" she asked, rocking her child gently and soothing its muted cries. She looked at the other woman skeptically, no doubt wondering why they had such a late caller.

Sif pulled down her hood so the other woman could see her face. "Is this the home of Garik?"

"Lady Sif!" she exclaimed in surprise, bowing as well as she could with her child in her arms. "Please - come in!"

Sif smiled in gratitude. "I apologize for my late intrusion. I must speak with him and it's a matter of some importance that I'm afraid cannot wait."

His wife quickly waved off the trouble and rushed into the other room to retrieve him as Sif stepped in and closed their door. "My Lady," he greeted, emerging from the back room of their home. "To what do I owe the honor of your presence here?"

"Are we alone?" she asked.

"Yes," he said uncertainly, obviously confused about the reason for her visit. "My wife has given us some time and is feeding our child in the other room. We have as much privacy as can be afforded."

She could not come to words right away, not the ones she needed to say. She bought herself a few moments as she thought of how to ask the right questions without garnering suspicion. "Your child is lovely," she said.

He smiled. "Thank you."

She bit her lip nervously, realizing that the quiet archer was not much for words, even when presented with the opportunity to boast over his daughter. "Your house is quite modest for someone of your skill. Have you thought about taking the position your brother formally held? The increase in benefits would grant you more room for your growing family." She knew she had been insensitive as she'd spoken and hoped he hadn't taken it as abuse against himself or his brother.

"I mean no offense, but I have never had a superior visit my home, and while I appreciate your attention to my daughter and my position, I highly doubt that this menial conversation was the reason you've come."

She took a deep breath and sat down on his couch, her eyes focused on the fire as she swallowed the nervousness that had claimed her tongue. "Forgive me," she started, "I hate the idea of interrupting your night with your family for official purposes, but there is something I must know."

He sat down across from her, his stare dropping to the floor. She'd hoped it was paranoia, but he already seemed to guess what she was about to ask. "Whatever you need."

"I - I have been charged with investigating the identity of an Asgardian who may have an -intimate relationship with Loki. Volstagg has cited your report as a source for this information, and as you have been the only person to witness his or her appearance at his window, I thought I would begin here. Is there anything you might be able to tell me?"

He swallowed and took some time in his response. "My Lady," he started in a whisper, "I know it is you."

Her complexion paled as her mouth opened for an argument that would not come. She turned her head from him, but in the firelight, he could see the reflection of the panic that filled her eyes. She made no move to deny his accusation. She had sensed from the onset that he had seen her somehow. His admission was only a confirmation of the truth that she had so feared. "Why did you deceive them? Why did you tell them you knew not who it was?" she asked, her voice quiet and strained.

He leaned forward, resting his arms on the top of his legs as his eyes searched some distant, invisible point for the answer. "I meant no deception," he explained truthfully, "but it is not my place to bear such news to them, nor will it ever be."

She looked sharply and questioningly up at him, willing back the wave of nausea that had abruptly hit her stomach. Now that someone knew, this entire endeavor seemed more real, forcing her to face the truth in a new, unflattering light. "It's an offense to your position to exclude such pertinent information from a report. Why would you risk such an omission?"

"They never pressed me for more information than what I volunteered - and what I left out was a small omission meant to save someone I respect from great humiliation," he explained. "Besides this purpose, however - though he has committed great harm, I feel I owe a debt to Prince Loki."

She scoffed, looking back towards the bedroom door to ensure his wife was still outside of hearing range. "A _debt_? _How_?" she asked in disbelief. "He has also done wrong against you and your family."

Once again, the archer fell silent as he planned his words carefully. Her patience waned, but she owed him at least this time in exchange for what he'd done. "I violated the confidence of my station. I witnessed a conversation between the prince and queen in which a great secret was discussed. Instead of holding my tongue as I should have, I shared this with my brother. He betrayed my trust - and the secret I spilled was one of the driving forces behind his attempt on Loki's life."

"Loki threatened your family…" she began.

"His threat held no weight - and didn't warrant my betrayal," he argued. He dropped his register again, his voice in barely a whisper so that even she had difficulty hearing what his next words were. "The Allfather kept this secret for a reason. I did myself and my king dishonor by sharing it so freely, even to my most trusted kin. I cannot make amends to the queen or Odin without placing my position at risk, but I can remain silent for the sake of the prince as recompense for my loose lips."

She sighed slowly; the knot in her stomach had begun to relax, but she felt a new one form in her throat. "For once, Loki's actions have benefited me, and yet I am not much eased by it," she remarked through her strained voice. "I trust I have your word then? You will keep this close to your chest?"

"Yes," he answered without hesitation. "For revealing one secret, I shall keep another."

She nodded uneasily. The feeling that she had narrowly avoided something horrible was not abated by his promise. "I will take my leave of you then, and allow you rest with your family."

She stood and walked to his door to leave, but he followed closely; he wasn't finished. "My Lady," he said hesitantly, "I may be overstepping my bounds - but this secret would much easier to keep if I could continue my watch without fear of seeing you there."

She looked at him sharply, her eyes suddenly stern and colder than he had ever seen before. "You do overstep your bounds," she said firmly. "Your guard over him is no longer official since you resigned the post. You have no authority in the situation - or in the choices he and I make outside of the welfare of Asgard. If you no longer wish to see me at his window, then I would suggest you stop watching it."

His eyes dropped submissively. "Yes, Lady Sif," he said with a bow.

Her features softened. "Thank you," she said in a gentler tone. "I owe you a debt I can't repay for fear of revealing myself."

He bowed again and showed her out. A weight had been lifted from her shoulders, though it did not affect the fear in her heart. Her actions, however, proved disparate from her thoughts once again. As she rode off, she found herself not on the road that would lead her back to her own home, but on the path that would return her to palace grounds.

* * *

The flicker of faint firelight from his small window could be seen from a distance. As she approached, she could see his form sitting on his floor in near darkness as he poured over a book. His brow wrinkled in concentration as he studied the diagrams and symbols on each page. She didn't understand what the text meant, but she guessed it had to do with his magic, and wagered he would gladly trade its presence on his lap for hers.

She gently knocked on the ledge, knowing he hadn't expected her that night. He looked up, a faint smile of surprise resting on his mouth for a small moment. It looked to be almost a difficult task for him, as his face had been frozen in pain for a long time with very few opportunities to break the mask of anger he built over his features.

He stood and helped her through the narrow opening, remaining careful not to grow too close to the outside wall, as the perimeter enchantments still caused him physical pain. "You've decided to knock for once?" he jested. "What honor is this?"

"What sweet welcome you bring," she retorted, matching his dry tone.

He wasted little time and pressed himself to her form as he brushed her hair from her shoulder and pulled her robe away to expose an area of her white skin. He kissed it gently, his warm breath stirring around her neck and causing chills down her spine as he pulled her even closer. "Strange clothing," he said into her ear, referring to the simple dress that would be more often found on a noble outside of the court. "I suppose if it's easy to take off, I have no complaint."

She sighed impatiently, wishing away the rush of blood his voice had caused to surge through her limbs. The shame she felt in Garik's quarters only an hour before had already faded with his simple touch. The disparate pull of her body and mind made her ache in discomfort. She quickly balanced and calculated her risks versus her rewards, reckoning she could tolerate one more night of this in his strange, warm company, though it would not fix her problems, or ameliorate the confusing, unpleasant feeling in her chest.

His lips met hers roughly as though it had been weeks since he'd tasted her. Conceding to her weaknesses, she reciprocated in kind, running her hand down the center of his chest to the belt of his pants. Her troubles from earlier began to fade to gray as his fingers moved systematically up her sides, searching for whatever it was keeping her dress on her body. The dark outer robe around her shoulders fell easily to the ground along with her satchel, but it would not be as simple as he'd hoped to remove the rest. "I have little patience. How important is this garment to you?"

She smiled softly and pulled away, his question begging back her sobriety. "There's something we need to discuss," she said.

He laughed lowly. "Communication has never been our strength. We should busy our mouths with better efforts." He moved in to kiss her again, but she pushed him away and sat down at the hearth of his fireplace. "What is wrong with you?" he asked darkly, unable to hide his impatience with her stubbornness.

She scoffed at his words and his sudden change in tone, but chose not to be baited into an argument. It had been easy to forget that the sole source of agreeability they had enjoyed since their childhood had little to do with words. "Is it so difficult for you to cool your blood and still your hands for one moment?"

A wicked smile spread over his lips. "I cannot help it if my body is now trained to respond to your arrival at my window." He kneeled in front of her and unfastened her boot, looking up at her with a devilish glint she knew meant trouble; this would only lead to her frustration with what would surely be her submission to his whims. The leather slowly slid from her slender leg. He ran his hand down the length of her calf, kneading it with his long fingers. Her blood reacted to his warm, light touch, the simple measure forcing heat to rise to her cheeks and a blush to darken her lips against her will. "Do I not yet elicit the same response in you?"

She sighed, attempting fruitlessly to control her breathing as he moved to repeat the act on her other leg. "No - not when there are more important issues at hand," she lied.

She lacked the skill of deception. He smiled in self-satisfaction as she bit her lip, and he continued the movements of his hands even when she gently tried to pull herself away. "What issue competes with me for your focus?" he asked. He leaned his head down, placing a feather light kiss on her shin. "Tell me so I can best it quickly and return to what's important."

"I have been seen - leaving these quarters," she said flatly, wishing it would cause him enough shock that he would stop.

Her blunt confession seemed to work. He paused his pleasing motions and looked up at her. "Who?"

"One who has been watching you without my knowledge and…"

"The archer."

"You knew?" she asked in astonishment. "How..?"

"He's not the only one with eyes suited for the dark," he said, resuming his affections. "I saw him a week ago or more."

"You _know_ what this may cost me. Why didn't you say something?"

"I didn't tell you because I desired not to jeopardize these appointments," he answered honestly. "You have a penchant for overreacting. For a warrior renowned for her bravery, you've been quite timid regarding your appointments here."

He gently pushed the material of her gown further up her legs and kissed her knee, running his tongue over the contours in a teasing manner as he made his way to her thigh. She half-heartedly struggled from his grasp, but the mischievous spark in his eye indicated he would not easily relent this time.

"You aren't worried because you have little to lose," she argued, despite the roughness that had suddenly claimed her voice, "you've forgotten what I've wagered in this agreement."

A dry laugh escaped his throat. "Why are you so concerned? He will either tell someone or he won't. If he does admit it, you'll simply deny it - and they will believe you because you're their valiant, loyal Sif. If he is silent, your fear is unfounded."

She paused to consider his words, and he worked her silence to his advantage. His fingers slipped under the material of her gown and inched the garment to her waist at an antagonizing, slow pace, his moist lips and warm breath following as he tasted and kissed his way closer. Her breath caught in her throat and her impatience ebbed. There would be time for her temper later. "Loki…" she said in a half-gasp, unable to tell him to stop, as she didn't honestly want him to. She leaned back, gently pulling his hands further along to encourage faster exploration, but just as her breath quickened and she grew content to allow the argument to rest, he stopped.

"Why did he keep this between the two of you?" he asked. "He could have used this to some advantage."

She sighed as he stopped his progress, his warmth leaving as he withdrew away from her and sat back on his legs. "He didn't," she answered. "He reported an anonymous visitor to Fandral and Volstagg. He has only hidden her identity."

"Why would he take such risk? What favor does he owe you that would warrant a lie to his superiors?"

"Actually," she began with some hesitation, "it is you he feels he owes - for the betrayal of the queen's confidence and the attack on your life."

He chuckled, a reaction that perplexed Sif, though she had grown accustomed to his odd behavior. "Then we have nothing to be concerned about," he said. He kissed her knee softly again, looking up into her doubtful eyes. She wanted him to continue where he had left off, but instead of encouraging the kind of attentions he had been paying her, she slid off the slick, stone hearth and onto his lap. Slowly, almost tentatively, she pressed her lips to his.

He returned her motions, savoring the sweet taste of her mouth and the feeling of her fingertips as they caressed the line down the center of his chest. Her actions, welcomed as they were, lacked the hunger and heat they normally showed. The entire reason she had started this game was because he affirmed her desirability, stroking her ego and vanity as he loved her body and the sensation of it pressed against her own. She sought this affirmation desperately from him, her fervor proven in fingernail marks and twisted sheets. For her to use such slow, nearly chaste, care was strange. He had only tasted her in such a way once before, and though he knew her lips well, the change was confusing.

He pulled her hips close to his and twisted their bodies, laying her gently on the floor. She smiled softly as he hovered above her, brushing her hair away from her neck. "This is not the only reason for which you came, is it?"

Her gentle smile remained, but her brown eyes dimmed slightly. "You asked me to be forthcoming with you."

He slowed his attentions as his hands worked against the material still covering her skin. "You would end this so soon?" he asked.

"'So soon?'" she said. "How long did you expect this to endure?"

He smiled in his usual, wicked manner, but it faltered quickly, revealing his own doubt. His brow furrowed, but he hid his uncertainty with the same angered expression he'd recently worn as a mask to cover his real pain. "Long enough to leave a lasting impression," he said, kissing her neck and moving his lips along her collarbone as his hand slipped from her leg to her waist.

She frowned, somehow feeling worse towards the concealment of his true self than towards any harsh word he'd spoken since his return. He had no further interest in talking, however, and she doubted she could ever beg any authentic honesty from him. Content to end the conversation, she conceded to his touch.

At first, she wrapped her hand around the back of his neck to encourage his momentum so the part of her that wanted to continue their futile discussion would be effectively distracted. He lifted his head momentarily to meet her lips again, and as he did, she could see a total lack of confidence in his eyes that she had never before seen on his features. His brow locked even deeper, and before she could raise any question or concern, he kissed her roughly and tightened his grip on her hip.

"Loki…" she whispered a groan as she worked to pull his fingers loose. The sound of his name merely encouraged him and his grasp on her tightened further as he pushed against her with more force. "Stop…" she said again.

The sudden hiss from her throat alerted him to the severity of his actions and he abruptly took his hand from her. He looked down at her apologetically; his mouth opened, but no words came out. Though his adamancy had hurt her, she looked sympathetically towards him. At merely the suggestion of ending what was an empty facsimile of a real relationship, he had reverted to his old ways. In part, her vanity was pleased that he would take it so hard, though another large part of her was almost fearful of what it might mean when it was time for her to leave. Perhaps he would eventually learn how to express this differently, but for now, he was happy to continue hiding in the dark shadows he'd brought with him from the abyss.

"Well, we have tonight," he said uneasily, kissing her chin as though nothing had happened. "Let tomorrow bring what it may."

She agreed silently, realizing the moment of rare transparency was over. Her common sense fought against the will of her flesh, but she gave no objection as he found her mouth again. Her body fell into its familiar rhythm with his, and she remained in his company for the rest of the night.


	13. Chapter 13: Thin Ice

The later the hour that passed, the more restless Jane became. She had gone to bed early that night, but despite her tired eyes, sleep would not come. The comforts of Asgard surrounded her, but there was a noticeable absence from these luxuries. She turned on her side with a groan of frustration, facing the empty space next to her. A very short time had passed since he'd first shared her bed, but she had grown accustomed to the weight of his body as it lie next to her and the sound of his breathing, finding it difficult to sleep without it.

Her disappointment in his absence wasn't necessarily due to any dependency on him, and it was this realization that kept her pride sated. It was more due to the fact that Asgard still felt foreign, strange, and in the subtlest of ways, unwelcoming; and in the few short weeks they'd spent together, Thor had become her sole comfort, and the only thing that had grown to feel familiar to her. She'd thought this quiet night alone would allow her time to think without distraction, but it did little but cause her greater confusion and make her impending choice even more challenging.

Thor wouldn't be with her at all that night; he had warned her that the ongoing affairs at court would monopolize his evening and would likely bleed into the early morning hours. Though their time together had grown impossibly short, the issues of his increasingly burdensome role were beginning to become difficult to ignore. That morning he had attended a council meeting, one he had been dreading for reasons he wouldn't share. He'd told her it was beyond her perspective, using the excuse that it focused on Asgardian happenings and foreign law, but for some reason, she believed there was more to it that remained hidden from her.

That meeting was immediately followed by a nearly last-minute away mission for Sif. Even though Jane wasn't very familiar with Jotunheim, their history, or of the perilous nature of the very planet itself, she inferred the danger involved. Thor had become somewhat pensive for a time in his worry for Sif while she was in the presence of the Frost Giants. It was one of the rare, short moments during her visit that Jane had fallen from the center of his attention.

A sickness appeared in her stomach at the thoughts that had followed and she hated the insecurity she had almost entertained. She was glad to be a friend to Sif, but the woman still intimidated her to some degree, even though it seemed unintentional. The warrior was a large part of Thor's life, and even if Jane made the decision to stay in Asgard, the memory of what Sif had been to him would always be there. This was just another of what had become a long list of obstacles in their path, but it was a large one.

Jane sighed and resigned to the fact that this new line of thought would keep her even further from sleep than she already was. She got up, dressed, and left her apartment, deciding to burn this energy in a walk.

The halls of the palace seemed unending in her solitude and the silence of midnight. The quiet was almost deafening to her; not a single soul could be found stirring along the paths down to the base of the castle, the only occupants being the motionless sentries posted near the crossways and in front of important entryways. None of them interfered with her, or asked her what business she would have at such an hour. However, she could feel their eyes fixed on her, watching her intently as she walked by. Many Asgardians had a friendly demeanor towards her in public, and even those who hadn't hidden their disapproval had grown tolerant of her presence in the halls. This didn't change the fact that she was still an outsider and a stranger in their home.

She continued from the palace, walking out to the dark, clear skies. There were few things in life more comfortable to her than a blanket of stars, even though the constellations were unfamiliar. The wide open skies painted in shades of greens, pinks, and blues welcomed her; her spirits began to lift, and the plethora of unpleasant thoughts that had stolen her rest had cleared from her mind. This is what she'd needed, she realized, scolding herself once again for her earlier doubts. She simply required space, enough to think and consider the options lying before her.

A glow appeared just beyond the nearest outer gate of the city and she realized she was near the Rainbow Bridge. Thor had briefly shown her the iconic road once and explained how it worked to defend Asgard from invading forces. She debated on turning back to her quarters, but her curious nature drove her forward; she desired to study its strange properties once again, without his pleasantly distracting form nearby.

The colors within the crystalline structure echoed the hues in the night sky, reminding her of the Auroras back on Earth. Her mind ventured tangentially to thoughts of Asgard's connection with her own world and she wondered how many other subtle likenesses there were, even despite their great distance from each other. As she stepped onto the path, she could hear the faint, but wonderful sound of a chime, which sounded again from her subsequent steps. With a smile on her lips and a child-like mind, she tried varying the weight of her steps, her stride, and her pace, observing in wonderment how the tone changed along with the intensity of the flash that occurred with every impact.

Her scientific mind had distracted her, and as she thought about the composition of the bridge, the physics keeping it impossibly airborne, the stars above her, and the relationship between science and magic in this strange place, time had passed her by. The eastern sky began to warm and glow with twilight. She had been away all night. Once again, she considered going back. Although she was mostly trusted to her own devices within the city's walls, she didn't want to worry Thor when he came to find her for their normal morning date.

She had gone far enough out onto the bridge to see the end, near the broken shards that stood as evidence to the destruction of the Bifrost and Thor's battle with Loki. The drop off from beyond that point could barely be seen on the horizon, but she could distinguish what was literally the edge of their world. The waters of the sea roared as though they spilled over the edge in a violent fall, the colored clouds of gas seemed to move faster as the eye followed them to the horizon. As though the Asgardians still hoped to commemorate the Bifrost, they had placed a metal statue at the end of the road; it stared out into space, standing guard in place of the fallen passage. Her natural inquisitiveness worked against her better mind and she went forward. If the edge could hold such a large, heavy figure, it could certainly hold her smaller frame.

She approached the edge timidly; her legs suddenly grew weak as her mind continued to speculate about what mysterious force held the bridge in place without support or anchor. These fears were superseded by other wonders as she peered over the broken edges of the bridge, watching the waters as they poured endlessly into an ocean of empty space. She held the statue's arm for stability and leaned out as far as she dared from the edge. There was simply nothing beneath her and the physics-defying bridge on which she stood, no solid ground, ocean floor, or even an end to her line of sight. The strange view in combination with what she knew to be true of the science of physics did something unexpected to her equilibrium. She recoiled slightly as her stomach swam and her head spun.

"You may want to steady yourself. If you fell in, you would be sent to a place where it would be impossible for your kind to survive."

At the sound of the deep voice so close to her ear, Jane jumped in a start, nearly falling back in the process. The "statue" had spoken, but it had taken her a moment to realize this, as his rich tone seemed to echo around her, despite the emptiness of space surrounding them.

"I didn't - didn't see you there," she said, catching her breath.

"A strange falsity," he spoke, "since you supported yourself from my arm just a moment ago."

She sighed nervously. "I meant - I didn't realize… Who _are_ you?" she asked.

He was unlike any other Asgardian she'd met thus far, and his manner struck her as strange, even in a realm full of characters who acted like exaggerations of themselves. He had been perfectly still during the entire time he was within her view, not unlike the Einherjar, but even they breathed, turned their heads, and shifted their weight occasionally. He stood tall and strong, his golden armor shining proudly just as the figures of the great, fallen soldiers on display within the palace. It was no wonder she had assumed him to be an inanimate statue. Despite having heard him speak, she still wasn't completely certain he was a living being. He finally turned to look down towards her, however, revealing his very real features.

"I am Heimdall, Gatekeeper of Asgard."

Now that she knew he was real, his size and demeanor unsettled her greatly. "Thor's mentioned you," she said.

"I am certain he has, Jane Foster of Midgard," he said, his voice unwavering from its stoic tone. "I expressed great opposition to your admittance into Asgard."

She stumbled over the words she had originally planned to speak; small-talk and informal chitchat didn't seem appropriate after a confrontation with a being she could only describe as noble, but terrifying. Actually, she had heard nothing of his disagreements with her arrival. Thor had spoken only of Heimdall's great power and his ability to see the branches of Yggdrasil down to nearly every world, even those that were darkened to Odin's own eye. He was one of Asgard's greatest defenses and had been instrumental in bringing Thor back from Earth. Considering the prince's high praise, his unabashed, unapologetic cynicism of her was a little surprising. "Why?" she asked after her thoughts settled. "What would someone like you have to worry about from me?"

"Are you certain you wish to know?" he asked.

She hesitated, but answered truthfully. "Yes, I do. I've been sheltered. Only one person has been honest with me and Thor censored her the moment she opened her mouth so it wouldn't sway my choice. I know I won't like your answer, but at least tell me what I'm really up against."

He narrowed his eyes slightly and examined her and her direct reply for legitimacy. "You are a stranger to this realm. As such, you are an unwelcome distraction to our people and to the prince at a time of uncertainty, when Asgard would be better served by preparing for war than entertaining guests."

"I didn't really have a say in the timing…"

"What I've spoken is not yet the entirety of the truth," he said. She grew quiet and he continued. "It is thought by some that a betrothal between the heir apparent and a Midgardian would weaken the Allfather's line. Our people are very proud of the strength of our realm. Your mortal blood would serve only to dilute what Odin has built," he explained.

She crossed her arms defensively and took an instinctive step back. Sif's confrontation had been harsher and more emphatic, but although she intimidated her, she had no measure to the height and nearly oppressive stature of the warrior before her now. "I've heard this before. But Sif…"

"Sif's words were born from an irrational attachment to one who owns no attachment to her," he started. "I have no such bias. Though my eyes have been turned from Asgard to the outer branches of Yggdrasil, I can see division spreading amongst our people. Thor has been charged with answering to the council for this very reason."

"Are you _sure_ you have no bias?" she asked, daring to meet his stare, which was quite a feat considering their difference in height. "You said you never wanted me here - only because you and your people are operating on millennium-old presuppositions about humanity. You made up your minds about me before I'd even agreed to come, but what chance have I had since then to prove my own strength to you? For someone who's able to see so far, you're being myopic."

He remained silent for a moment, though she wasn't sure if this was because he was surprised or impressed with her argument, or if it was because he was losing patience with the discussion. He remained completely stoic, making it impossible for her to understand him. "Are you prepared to face the consequences of your persistence, Jane Foster?" He continued, further explaining what he had meant in his vague question. "You will soon face the trials required before you can receive the gift of Idunn. If you should pass these tests, even your quietest opposition will begin to raise their voice against your union with Thor and you will see how deep the rift within our world truly lies. You would put Thor in the center of this contest - on the eve of his coronation with a looming threat upon our doorstep. Are you willing to compromise the love and loyalty of his people for your own purposes? Will you take your place next to his throne knowing that you would have been responsible for the only civil disruption Asgard has experienced in the age of Odin's rule? How then, would you feel if this occurred in the midst of war and threatened Earth's defense as well as our own?"

"You're exaggerating," she said, though her eyes betrayed her uncertainty.

"I have no reason to," he argued without a change in his tone. "I only wish to reveal to you an unavoidable part of your future, should you remain here."

She wanted to argue further, but she found it impossible. This man was like a stone wall in every aspect, and she felt like an ant trying to move it from its foundation with her arguments. His tone had remained as steady and hard as his posture, and she saw the futility in continuing any longer. Exhaustion finally began to settle into her mind and body for various reasons. She hesitated, but turned and began her long walk back to the palace without another word.

It was late in the morning by the time she finally arrived back at her temporary apartment, as she had no encouragement to quicken the pace of her return. Her fatigue from a sleepless night and the strain of her thoughts had drained her remaining energy. She opened the door to her quarters expecting him to be there, but she was still almost disappointed to find him waiting for her.

"Where have you been?" he asked. Her tired state worried him, but not as much as her absence from her quarters all morning.

"I couldn't sleep, so I went for a walk," she began truthfully. "I wanted to see the bridge again."

"You look like you could use some rest," he said, rubbing her arms gently. "Lay down; I'll arrange for some food…"

"Take me home, Thor," she said suddenly. His smile fell slowly and he opened his mouth to speak, but the mist quickly gathering in her eyes caused him pause. "No more excuses or false hopes. We both know this isn't working."

"Your words - they have a sense of permanence to them," he said quietly. His expression dimmed and her heart ached for being the cause.

She sighed. "I thought I could adapt, but Asgard is so strange and _extreme._ Even my dreams have been dire and dramatic. I feel small here, like a burden to you and to everyone who needs you, and I don't think it's fair for any of us right now."

He reached up to brush a stray lock of hair from her cheek and she held his hand there, leaning into his calloused palm. "You went to the bridge. Did you - speak with Heimdall?" he surmised.

She nodded. "I know what you're thinking," she said. "Yes, he did tell me about the controversy I've caused and all of the people who want me to leave because they think I'd fail them somehow if you and I were together - but for what it's worth, I think they're wrong. They have no idea what I'm capable of when I want something." He smiled softly at the strength she showed in these words; she reciprocated, though the sadness in her eyes remained. "But Asgard's not ready for this challenge yet - and neither am I."

"I never meant to imply that decision had to be made right at this moment," he argued. "That was never a requirement…"

"But that's what they _expect_," she said, interrupting him, "and I don't blame them. You're about to be king, and you have a war ahead of you. Your people look to you for security and stability and - I've done nothing but bring the opposite of that to your life."

"I don't agree," he said firmly.

"I'm _sorry_," she said adamantly. "When Sif confronted me on that first night, I realized this trip meant more to you than I thought. She was right - I should've told you then that I wasn't prepared for this. She only ever wanted me to be honest, but I was swept up by this world - by _you_ - and I guess I didn't want to acknowledge the truth."

"I wouldn't have heard you, regardless. I suppose I was immersed in denial as well," he said with a deep sigh. "It will be tomorrow, at the earliest - maybe a little longer. The portal device is off world until then." His eyes fell to the ground as his shoulders sank, giving her the distinct impression there was something else he was hiding from her.

She nodded and bit her bottom lip, nervous about asking what she needed to next. "Have I missed my chance? Was Sif right about that, too?"

He pulled her into a gentle hug and put his nose to her hair, inhaling deeply before he gave his answer. "I'm not one to concede so easily to defeat."

She closed her eyes, relishing the security of his arms. "Me neither."

* * *

The golden halls of the palace faded to silver ice; blue sky darkened to black. The air grew frigid around her, immediately breaking through the fur lining of her thick coat. Her lungs burned as she inhaled, feeling her breath catch in her chest at the sudden cold. She would not feel warmth again for some time, but she wrapped her layers tightly around herself and walked on without complaint in service of her king.

As she entered the decimated ruins of their capital, she could feel the eyes of dozens staring at her, thoroughly examining her as they whispered and laughed to each other. Their forms concealed by darkness, she could only imagine their sneering smiles and their fiery eyes narrowed in malicious curiosity.

"We expected your return," a low voice spoke from the shadows, "but this is much too soon." She recognized the speaker as a liaison of sorts who had been assigned to communicate with her when all others had refused.

"My king has ordered me here on additional matters. I shall implore your steward to hear me once more."

The liaison stepped out into the faint starlight and approached her. He was very short for a Frost Giant, but he still towered above her. She fought the reflex to step back, knowing that even a small sign of submission to anyone other than their steward would weaken her stature and compromise her mission.

"I do not anticipate he will want your company," he spoke slowly, as though he carefully planned each word before speaking. "You may have done more for your purpose if you had stayed in Asgard."

"I cannot go against the Allfather's will. The steward will see me, or I shall burden your people with my presence until this planet's death," she said firmly.

The figures hidden in the darkness laughed quietly at the audacity of her insistence. "Such large words for a small woman," he said, though he didn't add his voice to the dull hum of laughter coming from the perimeter. "I will see what can be done."

After her initial visit, Sif was used to the slow "hospitality" of the Jotuns. The liaison's words implied he would help, but it would be a day - maybe several before she was granted an audience with the steward himself. Sif knew nothing of the cause for this treatment, as she was rather ignorant regarding the customs of their people. However, she could not abate her suspicion that it was a passive-aggressive measure caused by their cynicism of Asgard and their presuppositions towards her sex.

Faced with her presence until her request for audience was met, the liaison escorted her to her previous accommodations - a flimsy tent and a hollow crevasse for a fire in front of a wall of stone that blocked most of the wind. She carried her own provisions, which included enough food for a week if she rationed herself, and a mat that would inadequately insulate her from the cold, hollow crust of their planet. She was content to follow her duties, even if they led her to such circumstances, but she could not deny that she missed the soft warmth of the feathery beds in Asgard already. Perhaps, she wondered, she had been too far from struggle for too long.

Day turned into night as her wait continued, though the sky didn't change but for the movement of faint stars. She tried to sleep, but even though her mind dreamed sporadically and her eyes closed, she could hardly find real rest. The flicker and pop of firelight startled her awake. She opened her eyes to find the liaison prodding a fresh fire that had been dead only moments before. Without question, she left her tent and sat in front of the flame, removing her gloves so she could warm her hands.

"Do you have an answer for me?" she asked, trying her best to keep from revealing her shuddering jaw in her speech.

"The steward refuses to grant you an audience until he knows the reason for your return. What is it you want?"

She sighed. "If I relay it through you, he will never see me. If I can't give him context, face-to-face, he will reject our terms without consideration," she argued.

"Then you will continue to wait. He is curious about your purpose, but he enjoys your suffering more."

"I can wait," she said adamantly.

"Can you?" he asked doubtfully, his face set in stoic stone as he examined her. "The cold has already soaked your skin. Your people were not intended to endure this climate but for short spells."

She couldn't argue. She shifted even closer to the flame, near enough for her clothes to catch, if she was not careful. The flames burned and stung her skin, but they failed to warm. _Nothing_ beyond Asgard's star could comfort her. "Why did you rekindle my fire?" she asked. "I thought your people were comfortable here."

"We are," he answered, "but you were shivering so hard in your sleep, I thought you had fallen ill." She looked up at him questioningly, her eyes betraying her distrust before she could disguise it. He laughed heartily, his deep, resounding voice nearly caused her ears to ache as it echoed off the stone wall behind them. "Cynicism abounds on both sides, it seems," he started. "Are you so ignorant towards our people that you believe we would ignore the suffering of another for the sake of spite?"

"Did you not just tell me the steward enjoys my misery? What else am I to think?" she asked.

"The steward was a childhood friend and kin to King Laufey. He hates the Allfather and every one of his subjects," he explained. "It may be the prominent opinion in your realm, but even you must understand that we are not all alike. There are hateful Jotuns as there are hateful Asgardians, but as often as you find kindness in each other, so do we. We express it differently, perhaps, than your soft race, but it is not our responsibility to justify our actions to you or to your king."

Many questions ran through her mind at that moment, but her duty didn't justify her asking any of them. A sense of humiliation rose within her stomach, and though she had said nothing, she felt a bit ashamed. She was given the rare opportunity to speak with a Frost Giant earnestly about his people in order to build a better understanding that may help inspire peace - yet she could think of nothing to ask that wasn't the result of some curiosity about the man whose bed she shared.

"If you feel I'm ignorant, then educate me," she said adamantly.

He laughed. "Teaching spoiled children is not my duty. You would waste my time and yours with such a fruitless activity."

"You _are_ the acting liaison here," she argued. "It _is_ your duty to communicate between your steward and myself and I am _certain_ there are some things he would want me to know before I present our next proposal."

"What is it you wish to hear?" he asked lowly.

She had hoped he would take control of the discussion. She wasn't prepared to answer him. "Tell me what Jotunheim is like outside of war and the turmoil of your current state," she said. "I've never heard of your history beyond the Great Wars. Perhaps therein lies a commonality between our peoples."

He sighed heavily. At first she thought it odd; she had never seen a reaction so typical of Asgard in a Jotun. However, she had seen such casual expressions on Loki hundreds of times, and so she knew the Jotuns were capable of frivolity and levity, though their circumstances hardly allowed it. Once again, dissonance seized her as she tried to reconcile the very real fact that the being sitting with her was closer a kin to Loki than anyone she had ever known.

"Very well. I will tell you of Jotunheim in a time outside of war," he stared, "though it has been generations since any has seen it."

"Thank you," she said, recognizing his concession.

"Jotunheim has always been dark and cold, but it was never the wasteland you see before you now until the Casket of Infinite Winters was taken by your king. Our land had not yet broken into the risen, jagged shards that tear our flesh as we walk upon it. Instead of hills of ashen grey and plains as black as night, our world was covered in soft blankets of white. Our proud cities shined like azure gems in the midst of diamonds. When the ice and snow lay undisturbed, the starlight would reflect so clearly, one almost felt as though they were moving through the heavens themselves.

"We had children here, many younglings who would laugh, play, and learn their arts upon our icy plains. They grew knowing that they had any of many futures lying before them - not this hopelessness that consumes our realm today. Now, our women have stopped bearing offspring. With no future, our world has resigned to its death. _This _is the only version of Jotunheim you have seen, but I assure you, it is nothing but a dim shade of what we once were."

Even as he spoke, she could hear the distant crumbling of structures and landscapes as the world slowly fell apart around them. This place had seemed eternally miserable to her from the moment she had first stepped foot on it only a short time before, but now she felt a sadness for it, and mourned its eventual, unavoidable passing.

"My words eulogize the realm all Jotuns know, the home we hold onto, even though it is on the brink of death. Hope has long abandoned us, but _we_ will not easily abandon Jotunheim."

"That is foolishness," she said, "and suicide."

"It is love," he argued, "if you would understand it better in your limited terms."

She was honestly astonished at his choice of words and chortled in reaction. "I would say it's closer to obsession."

"Is there a difference?"

She scoffed. "_Love_ would mean appreciating the world you have while you have it, and recognizing that it will soon be gone. Value what you had here and move on and don't allow selfishness to drive you to want something impossible; staying too long will avail you _nothing _but death."

He shook his head. "You underestimate our dedication, and so perhaps our worlds do have different understandings of love. Even if the Casket was returned, there is nothing we could do to mend Jotunheim's wounds, yet we remain and tend to it however we can. Some of us would be content to leave - to attempt to dominate another world, as we once challenged Midgard, in order to mend the pain of losing ours. But there are those like myself that are content to die here."

She smiled wryly and turned her gaze to the fire. "So that is love to a Jotun…" she observed. "I think I'm beginning to understand - though I am not certain I wanted to."

Her latter words confused him, but they seemed directed towards an entity he did not know, so he paid them no mind. "Now that I have met your request, will you meet mine? Tell me of your objective."

"I was ordered to offer extraction for your people to another world. The king wanted me to arrange transport from Jotunheim, possibly to Niflheim, as there are other Frost Giants and the climate's similar."

He shook his head. "Then your efforts are futile," he said. "We have not been one with those clans in ages and Niflheim is a poor substitution."

Her shoulders sank. "I know that now," she said quietly, "but I will not defy the Allfather's orders. Your steward will hear me before I leave this place."

A low noise came from his throat, an expression she didn't understand, but seemed as though it conveyed puzzlement and perhaps annoyance. "You know your argument is worthless, yet you still demand to present it," he said. "We are not so different, Asgardian."

"Apparently not," she agreed with a subtle smile.

He laughed softly. "If a short story could mend such ignorance, it is a wonder our two realms have been at war for so long." She had no retort, though the tails of their destructive actions against the weaker realms and their invasion of Earth flittered through her mind. "The ignorance is not yours to bear on your own, however," he continued, echoing her unspoken thoughts. "You will get your meeting with our steward; you have my word - but do not expect much in the way of victory."

"Thank you," she said sincerely, "that's all I ask."

The liaison was true to his word. Less than half a day after his promise, she was ushered into the palace to face the steward with Odin's proposal. Her reception was as cold as always, the faces of those who had gathered as icy and impenetrable as the frozen crust of their decaying world. She could hear their low voices whispering as she entered. Though she couldn't discern their exact words, the occasional sound of laughter rose above the silence. They didn't respect her, and it would be nearly impossible to convince them that she was worthy of it.

The steward raised his hand and the voices of those hiding in the shadows ceased abruptly. "My liaison has told me you've brought an interesting offer from the Allfather," he began, a note of humor in his voice she rarely heard in the dark tone of the Jotuns. "If you plan on surviving in this realm, I would advise you to save your energy and avoid fruitless propositions of peace with Asgard. We accepted your last offer to satisfy your insistence, but we have no interest in playing these games any longer."

"Have you already been made aware of my purpose here?" she asked sharply, impatient with his ignorant words.

He leaned back in his lower throne, unsure about this female, who appeared even more calloused than some of his own warriors. "No, my liaison has not shared the offer itself, only your bid for audience."

"Then hear me and I will be satisfied," she said. The steward nodded and yielded the floor. "Odin Allfather implores you to relocate your people off this planet." The crowd began to make noise again, and the steward himself chuckled. She raised her voice and began again, ignoring the slight. "Asgard would provide you with a way to transport your remaining population and supplies for settling."

"Even if I humored this request, how would Asgard move us? What exists that could transport so many since the Bifrost has been destroyed? Odin possesses no such power himself."

She planned her response carefully. She had been told she was allowed to discuss the portal device she used to get there and return for the sake of transparency, but it was heavily implied and easily understood that she should be cautious not to mention the Tesseract by its known name, or divulge its vast capacity for power. "The device that transported me here contains a mere sliver of dark energy from a technology Asgard has recently reacquired. Using the full supply of the original object, it will be possible to move your population safely."

"Of what object do you speak? Tell me of its power so I may ensure our safety."

She furrowed her brow, seeing through his attempt immediately. "My apologies, but you must take our word regarding its stability. I believe my repeated use of it should be evidence enough for you."

The steward exhaled sharply. "To which realm would the Allfather send us?"

"Midgard is protected and Asgard would be disastrous for both of our peoples. Any other realm could be considered, but Niflheim seems as though it would be your best option. We could…"

"Enough," the steward interrupted. "To entertain this preposterous suggestion any longer would only waste time. This _kind_ act supplied by the Allfather is merely a smokescreen for control and we will not have it."

"It is _not_ for control or subjugation that we bring this offer to you. You are a suicidal fool to insist on staying here as your world falls to pieces," she firmly argued, though she used care to avoid raising her voice. A show of emotion would not avail success in an audience such as this. "We know our past relationship with your people has been tumultuous at best. We merely wish to make amends for the wrongs done on both our parts and begin anew."

The steward smirked maliciously. Once again, her thoughts were pulled away from the focus of her mission. It was in those cold lips and sardonic smile that she saw the first resemblance to their stolen prince. She shook these thoughts from her mind, setting herself firmly on the issue at hand.

"If your words are true to your heart, then give _us_ the device of which you speak. Allow us to decide what is best for our people and move them where _we_ see fit."

"You know this demand lacks reason," she said, hoping he would not infer from her secrecy the true power of the cube.

"Then suggest a counteroffer," he said in a growl.

"There is nothing we have that would do you any good other than what I have already…"

"Bring us the one who has caused us so much harm. Allow us to do with him as we please - and drag his body down to the great depths of Yggdrasil as we go too."

His words caused a chill down her spine; his pure hatred dripped from every syllable and seemed to echo those of his people who had gathered with him. A dull roar rose from the shadows in agreement and support of their brazen steward. "The Allfather would _never_ surrender himself to…"

"Do not think us so vain or naïve to expect the great Odin to forfeit his life to us," he said. "I speak of the one who betrayed King Laufey, the wayward prince who lured us with a tale of his own treachery and the promise of reclaiming the Casket of Infinite Winters."

"_Loki..?_"

"He has betrayed the house of Odin as much as ours. I imagine you will find our request easy to comply with."

She would have been content to return with this offer a few months before and allow Loki to perish with the Jotuns. Now, she felt a bias in her heart towards one whose warm body had made her feel more value for herself than she'd experienced since her youth. "You speak of a traitor, but do not forget, he is also Odin's son. The Allfather will not lightly give him to his enemies, regardless of his trespasses against Asgard."

"Then whatever it is he seeks from us - power, submission, _forgiveness_ - will not be given," he said firmly. "It is better for you to leave us now. I cannot keep my men from expressing their hostility towards Asgard for long; you are their nearest champion - and you are alone here."

She stepped forward to argue, but the liaison subtly waived her back from beyond the steward's view. She heeded the warning and though her eyes remained fixed on the steward's in a hard stare, she dropped her argument. "I will leave, as you have requested, but know that the window on the Allfather's offer closes swiftly. If _any_ of your people wish to leave, you owe it to them to give them that opportunity and soon."

The steward did not reply, but crossed his arms defiantly against her insistence. She walked briskly out of their palace, back to the makeshift shelter against the foot of the stone wall. She wasn't followed, but she could feel the rising blood lust of the Jotuns as they watched her depart. It was no longer safe for her, and because of the rising threat, she would have to face Odin with two pieces of bad news. Once she was back in her tent, she packed quickly, driven by her anger and sense of failure in herself. She didn't hear the sound of approaching footsteps.

"Are you still here?" asked a loud, low voice from outside of her tent.

Panic rose in her chest before she recognized the source as the only ally she had made in her stay. "Yes," she said, ducking out of her tent. "I will soon open the portal, but I cannot hurry any more than I am."

"You were easily angered by the steward's response," he observed.

"I am angry at _myself_," she answered truthfully, "for I have failed in two regards. The Allfather's proposal has been denied - and I have overstayed my welcome, likely never to be allowed here again."

"You are only partially correct," the liaison said. "Those closest to the steward have grown curious and restless with your presence. I cannot guaranty your safety if you return alone again."

"Odin's proposal…"

"The steward will not accept it as it is, but he has decided to open the option to his people, so they may decide for themselves. I would not celebrate a victory; many will choose to remain here. However I would not count it as a loss either."

Her shoulders dropped and a subtle, relieved smile crossed her features. "Did you have something to do with his change of mind?"

"I offered small counsel," he said. "Your tenacity is what impressed him."

"I thank you for the help you've given me. I don't even know your name."

"'Liaison' is fair and good enough for your purposes. In trade for my help, I trust you to inform us if there is deceit in this offer."

"I give you my word," she said with a slight bow. "You will know all that I know."

"I will remind you that an Asgardian's word means little to us. There will be little I can do to protect your if you show a lack in integrity," he warned.

"Thank you, Liaison," she said. "I will bear that in mind."

* * *

Another long tour of the frozen realm of Jotunheim had ended and Sif returned to Asgard gratefully, ready for the warmth and light of its sun and its people. She was committed to her duty and felt honored for the opportunity to prove herself with such a responsibility, but she grew steadily weary of ice and the sort of chill that caused even her bones to ache within her limbs. If she were ever to fall ill, she knew this charge would be its cause; no body was designed to freeze and defrost so often as hers had in her preceding visits to the lonely ice planet.

Thor was once again present to meet her at the portal and welcome her return; his relentless protectiveness of her was evidenced in his worried features and the lines that graced his normally youthful features. He looked aged and wise, more like his father than she had ever seen before, but she would not admit this to him, for fear it would be taken in the wrong context, or seen as a sentimental effort to reclaim what had been lost. Instead, she simply offered her report, including what the Frost Giants' steward had heard, what he considered for compromise, and what he held to stubbornly.

Thor weighed her words carefully, considering the implications of their actions and the Jotun's counteroffer. He was silent during her report, interrupting her only once for clarification. It was a sure sign of maturity that he resisted his likely urge to lash out at their stubborn reaction, or to complain to her of the senselessness of their decision. She wondered what his judgment was on their request for Loki; he had done nothing to win his favor back during his return to Asgard, and had only further tested the patience of the Allfather and his heir.

"What are your thoughts?" she asked after some pensive silence.

He looked up at her, his mind obviously consumed with what could be done and what the consequences would be if he chose either path. "We could use this to our advantage," he offered.

"Against Jotunheim?" she asked in confusion.

"No." His eyes were cast uncharacteristically towards the ground. "My father will be pleased as I am that you have made the progress you did considering their obstinate attitudes. I am relieved to hear some may be willing to accept our offer; we will allow the others to face their decomposition in peace. My aim is towards a different target. Call my brother from his quarters - and what of the Three are on duty."

For a moment, she knew beyond a doubt that he was planning on playing a bluff. It _is _what Loki would do if their positions were switched. However, the tone of his voice spoke differently regarding his thoughts and intentions. She wondered if he was less predictable than he had been before Loki's betrayal, or if this was just another empty threat made in desperate hope for cooperation.

"You aren't actually considering..."

"Trust my purpose in this, Sif," he said quietly.

She did what she was told, taking only a few moments to change from her layers of coats and warm herself before fetching the others. Fandral was the only one on duty near the palace, and she made arrangements to meet him to escort Loki. Even though she was loyal to Thor, a shadow of concern and a question grew within her about this effort. Perhaps Loki's influence had begun to wear off on her, but she saw the attempt as pointless and doubted it would do any good.

Fandral said very little in protest of the sudden interruption to his day, though he obviously held some curiosity about the Thor's sudden summoning of his brother. It wasn't until they arrived at Loki's door that he finally spoke. "Am I to be privy to this meeting?" he asked. "Or shall I take my leave when we arrive?"

Sif shrugged lightly. "I know nothing of Thor's intentions beyond his discussion of my objective on Jotunheim. Thor's thoughts on the matter are - very mysterious to me at the moment."

She knocked heavily on Loki's door. "Enter," he said with some annoyance; he didn't appreciate surprise visitors - unless they were the type to crawl in through his window at night, searching for something more from him than information. His mood lifted slightly when he saw Sif walk through his doorway, a wicked smile appearing on his lips as his tongue readied some snarky remark or question regarding her appearance there in the middle of the day. His smirk dropped, however, when Fandral entered after her; for her sake, Loki abandoned his quip as well. "What do you want?" he asked lowly. He rarely saw the warriors, with the exception of Sif and the archer-voyeur that perched himself regularly outside of his window. The appearance of two of them most likely indicated he was about to be moved.

"Thor has summoned you to the palace. We're here to escort you to him," Sif answered.

"Wouldn't it be easier on everyone if he just came to me?" he asked dryly, though he knew the answer already. Thor _wanted_ him in heavy chains, bound with his mask, and paraded through the palace. This humiliation - an attack on his pride, was an effort to weaken his resolve and relieve him of his normal desire to play his games. If Loki were honest, he would admit it was a wise tactic against one such as himself.

Neither Fandral or Sif entertained his question. Instead, the warrior pulled out the mask Loki had hoped to never see again and stepped towards him cautiously. Loki immediately stepped away and raised his arms. "You _know_ you will never leave these quarters without this," Fandral argued. "I will have the guards hold you down, if necessary."

"Then let _her_ put it on. A woman's touch - is so much more delicate than yours."

Fandral scoffed and looked to Sif for support, but instead, she nodded and held out her hand. He compromised and allowed her to satisfy Loki's request, and as she approached their prisoner, he began to poke curiously around the odd artwork displayed in Loki's chambers.

Loki watched the other man carefully to ensure his eyes were away from him and Sif. When he was certain of this, he grabbed her hips gingerly and pulled her against him. She hid a gasp and looked back in panic towards Fandral, who had been ignorant of the movement and of the intimate position of Loki's hands on her waist.

She pulled at his fingers, glaring at him as she silently pleaded for release. His smile returned. "Where have you been?" he asked, leaning down towards her mouth and ignoring her dangerous stare.

She pulled back from him and looked again towards Fandral, who was still well distracted by the pewter and gold figures on Loki's table. "On a mission," she hissed quietly from behind gritted teeth.

"To Jotunheim," he surmised. He had experienced her dreams once again during the nadir of her struggle with the frigid temperatures and treacherous company, but the vision had remained vague images, and lacked the realism it once held when he was present within her mind. His connection with her was finally fading, but it was not yet fully severed. "Is that why Thor has called me?"

"You will know soon enough," she said, firmly pushing him back. He willingly sat in a chair behind him and allowed her to secure the mask around his mouth. The guards brought in the chains Fandral had requested, and she began to secure his hands and feet so he could not move much beyond his normal walking stride.

"Shall we keep these for later?" he asked teasingly.

She glowered at him, thankful that Fandral's hearing was no better than average. "Continue this game and there will _be _no 'later,'" she quietly snapped.

He smiled brilliantly at her response, partially because it fit well with his antagonistic nature, but mostly because it meant she had plans for that night - a doubt he'd considered since she had left on her second errand. As he stood, he grew nearer to her again. Though his hands were bound and his mouth covered, she was still unnerved by her body's reaction to his scent, his warmth, and the way his deep green eyes bore into hers.

To Sif's relief, Fandral and a handful of Einherjar ushered him away without further word or incident. The party was quick and silent as they moved through the grounds, save the rattle of Loki's chains and the armor of those that followed. Once they entered the palace, however, that abruptly changed.

Under his mask, Loki frowned deeply as they made their way down the long corridors and up the levels towards Odin's Hall. Fandral was leading and he had considerably slowed their pace. The crowds of people who were normally in the palace stopped and stared, gaping at the image of the fallen prince chained and leashed like a rabid animal. Fandral was giving them time to appreciate the view; he was putting Loki on display.

"Why didn't you take us along the back route? It's more direct," Sif remarked.

"We have plenty of time," Fandral answered casually.

Loki sighed impatiently; Sif responded on his behalf. "We _could _move faster."

Fandral chuckled dryly, unwilling to quicken his steps. "We _could..._"

Loki caught Sif's eye and with a dark, furrowed brow, silently implored her for assistance. There was not much help she was willing to offer him, but she happened to agree with him on this point. "Fandral, there are still those within the court that want him dead. This pace and public view could prove hazardous."

"That's why we're with him," he replied. He winked at her, falsely assuming she would find humor in his jest. She rolled her eyes, but allowed the argument to rest. They were nearly to the top at this point anyway, and Loki should've been prepared for this treatment from Fandral, who could be just as antagonistic as he could at times.

Loki was surprised to find Odin's Hall empty and silent, as he thought this is where the main act would've taken place. Instead, they took him to one of the adjacent, private conference rooms, where Fandral began adjusting his restrains so he could be secured to a heavy chair. "So," he began in his over-confident, most self-assured tone, "when will you tell us about the poor whelp you've lately dragged into your bed?"

His eyes narrowed dangerously. "That isn't your business."

"They've been sneaking through the defenses around your chambers. That's a breach of security, which _makes _it my business," he retorted.

"Fandral, stop," Sif spoke, attempting to sound unaffected, "I thought we agreed I would handle this."

"We did," he said, looking back at her briefly to flash an easy smile, "but perhaps this is something he would feel more comfortable speaking about with another male." He knelt down in front of the chained prince and met his eyes with the same icy, malicious stare Loki himself often displayed. "You can be honest with _me,_ Loki," he started in a whisper. "Is it a man in disguise? A prostitute?" Loki lurched towards him violently, and though his chair popped with strain on the metal and wood, his chains held.

"Fandral…" Sif warned again.

"I won't judge you," he resumed, ignoring Sif. "Perhaps it is simply a woman no other man would have. Such a decent act should be _shared_, not kept secret."

"Please..." she had gone to pleading.

Loki chuckled lowly, a mischievous look in his eyes so dark, Fandral would surely have a dagger in his neck if it weren't for his restraints. Words travelled from the back of his mind to the tip of his tongue as he thought of the most delicious way to reveal to the warrior that his childhood friend, a woman he had fought with, grown with, and loved more than his own kin, was the one he slandered so grossly. However, his glare left Fandral for only a moment, and fell instead on Sif. Her eyes were alight with panic and fear. She silently begged him to stop, her quiet desperation more intense than anything he had seen in her passionate brown eyes. The words he had planned died on his lips; no matter the pleasure it would bring him, he could not betray her in this manner. "Speaking of prostitutes," he said, his smirk returning to his lips. "How _does_ your mother fare these days? Please send her my regards."

Fandral stood abruptly, anger rising in a rush of blood to his cheeks. He looked as though he was about to strike him, but he resisted, a small chuckle rose from his throat instead. Sif exhaled in relief. "Your wit strikes again," Fandral said casually. "I will have to settle our score later, when you may defend yourself more fairly."

"It seems I'd do just fine as I am."

"What is going on?" Thor asked. He had heard the end of the exchange, and while he knew the propensity of Loki to antagonize others for fun, he did not take kindly to Fandral's threat.

"Nothing," Fandral said casually, "just friendly banter."

Thor looked at Sif for confirmation. She scoffed at Fandral's words, but said nothing, simply grateful that Loki had held his tongue. The prince decided to drop the issue and held his rebuke.

"Why am I here again?" Loki asked after a weighted silence.

Thor did not answer immediately. Instead, he sat down in a chair across from him, matching the height of his eyes with his own. "You look better, Brother," he said. He hadn't seen him in some time, and his previous visit had been too short to notice the return of warmth to his skin tone, and the way his eyes had reverted to green after having been tainted by the power of the Tesseract. "You have fared well in your new circumstances - but I'm afraid they may have to change again."

Loki leaned back in his chair, an entertained smile visible on his muzzled mouth. "Oh, this will be good," he said daringly.

Thor's face fell, but he continued. "We asked Midgard if they would keep you for your crimes and they mercifully handed you over to my care. It was an oversight to ignore the will of the Jotuns - and any recompense they may claim for damages exceeding that which was done to Earth. It seems they want you turned into their custody - and care _not _if you are dead or alive in the transfer."

Loki laughed heartily. He spoke dryly, his tone changing dramatically with his hyperbolic emphasis on each syllable. "I suppose _you're_ here to threaten me with _extradition _unless I reveal some secret about my allies." Thor didn't immediately answer, but his head dropped, and his confident eyes lost a bit of their spark. "You've never been one to bluff well, Thor. You are too obvious with your physical cues, and your inflection changes when you lie. You would not kill me before - and you won't relinquish me to certain death now."

Thor chortled wryly. "I admit I'm a bad liar. I've never practiced it to a point of proficiency, as you have," he said, "so I will tell you the _truth_. The truth is, I am tired of fighting with you; I'm tired of not knowing what to do with you - fearing I have either been too harsh or too soft, and having my judgments questioned simply because I could not order your death. The Jotuns _have_ requested custody, and it is my honest word - I am tempted to oblige them and send you from Asgard thence as a matter of convenience and relief for myself and this kingdom."

Loki's smile straightened; he believed Thor, but it only rekindled the anger and impatience he felt toward this old argument. "Get it through your thick skull_,_" he growled. "There is little I can tell you."

Thor shook his head. "Another lie," he said. "You told Mother to watch the Tesseract for signs of our enemy's approach. Surely, there must be something else."

Loki's brow furrowed intensely as his head dropped, his long hair concealing his eyes from Thor's view. "I told her that for her benefit _alone,_" he said. His low voice was suddenly rough with strain. Frigga had been reticent to share this revelation, for fear he would feel as though she were betraying the only act of love he had shown his family in a long time. It appeared her fears were correct.

"Mother will not leave Asgard; you _know_ that," Thor argued. "She will be in as much danger as the rest of us if you don't…"

"Will you shut your howling trap and listen to me?" Loki growled in a sudden interruption. "There _is_ nothing to tell because I _know _nothing. I was not entrusted with his full plan, only the part that demanded my action."

The prince leaned back in his chair and ran his hand through his thick hair as he considered Loki's words. His sudden admission combined with the slight humiliated tone in his voice worked to convince Thor that, for once in a very long time, his brother was being truthful with him. "No wonder you have hidden so much from me," Thor said quietly, narrowing his eyes as he studied Loki's expression. "Since the day you arrived, you've done nothing but make claims toward your ally's strength and his inevitable victory, but you're simply a pawn, aren't you? You're nothing but his subservient minion, not quite the influential partner you've purported to being."

Loki's jaw tightened as his body shook in sudden anger. "He will give me your _precious_ Earth - and after time, perhaps Asgard itself. Such a prize is worthy of pawn?"

"He has done so only to appease you," he answered calmly. "Do you really believe he would surrender the jewel of Yggdrasil? As long as you're the only one with access to what he needs, he will tell you anything."

Loki looked as though another argument tempted his tongue, but he fell silent instead, choosing an icy glare in lieu of accepting Thor's baited words.

"You were never meant to be king, Loki - of Asgard _or_ of Earth - but tell me your part in your ally's plan and I will release you to live your life in whichever miserable way you prefer."

"Thor, you can't possibly…" Fandral started in protest, knowing Loki wouldn't simply, peacefully accept a diminished position. Thor put his hand up, silencing his subordinate.

Loki's eyes dropped; he could not disguise the fact that a small part of him wanted to consider the proposal. The offer of freedom, the use of his power, and the ability to simply walk within the realm unescorted and without restraint was tempting to him at this point, even if it was pitiful compared to what his ally had offered - _if_ he had been truthful with him. "And what of my station?"

"You speak of your authority? Your place at the foot of the throne of Odin and the birthrights within?" Thor frowned deeply, finding it difficult to say his next words. "I will speak with the Allfather - but I think he would agree it is too late for that."

Loki chuckled wryly. "Yes, I suppose claiming any rights of birth would be quite futile at this point. Odin would only reward his rights to his _true_ son - and he has always been searching for an excuse to take them from me without granting me the courtesy of the truth."

"You speak like a foolish child. You know as well as I do that he has done _nothing_ to compromise your place here beyond what your actions deserve."

"Really?" he asked, feigning confusion. "My actions deserve complete abandonment by a man who allegedly loved me as a father?"

"That isn't what he…"

"There is no need to defend him," he started. "He easily brought me into this family; he would find it just as easy to banish me from it."

Loki's lips displayed a crooked smile, but his eyes held a shadow of pain. Thor's temper flared with this accusation, but his dissonance pulled at his heart as his own regret swept painfully through him. Odin hadn't seen Loki since he'd arrived and rarely spoke of him to Thor as anything more than a prisoner. Thor couldn't argue with his brother's assertions, but Loki certainly hadn't made the situation any better for himself. It was infuriating for the prince; he was stuck in the middle, and still, he had no idea what to do with the unrepentant Loki.

He abruptly stood and grabbed Loki by the collar, lifting the chair he was bound to partially from the ground. "Damn you," he said lowly with water in his eyes. "Damn you for forcing our hand against you; for ignoring the compassion we have shown you; and for forgetting the years we spent happily together. It is your pride and arrogance that has put you here and has caused a greater pain in me than I have ever known before. _No one_ in our realm will be unaffected by this struggle. Won't you do this one last decent deed and cooperate me? For your people? For our mother or the woman in your bed? For one you once loved as your brother?"

Loki paused in surprise, but as Thor's words sunk in, mist began to gather in his eyes, bringing the first semblance of hope Thor felt in quite a while. "For _you?_"

"_Yes_, Brother," he answered, "for the deep love you know I still have for you."

Loki's brow softened and twitched upward, but the moment of potential ceased quickly. His expression darkened into a sneer once again. "_Liar_," he said in a hiss.

Thor released him suddenly, jolting him as the back legs of the chair hit the ground again. "The offer is rescinded."

"Should I pack warm then?" was his sardonic reply.

Thor turned his back to him. "I will consult the Allfather," he said before walking out the door, "but if he's as unforgiving as you accuse him of being, I would not expect a decision in your favor."

Thor left before he saw it, but a vague shadow of fear crossed Loki's features as his face reddened with anger. Sif was at a loss, unsure of what to do, or even what was appropriate for her to _feel_. She had always been empathetic to Thor and his pain after his brother's betrayal, but as she watched Loki, she felt something akin to defensiveness on his behalf. She ran after Thor, a confused Fandral following shortly behind her.

"Thor," she called to him. He stopped at the sound of her voice, though he would not turn to meet her. "You know nothing will come of it if you surrender Loki to Jotunheim. Those who wish to stay there will remain. We will be just as distant from peace - and our new, nameless enemy will continue to draw ever closer," she argued.

"I know," he said quietly - and offered no additional dispute.

She pulled his arm gently so that he would face her. His eyes, though dry, were red and darkened, the light normally found within was dimmed. Regret filled her, regret that she had found it so easy to advocate for Loki and forget Thor's position. As both Odin's son and Loki's brother, he was trapped in the center. He needed no reminder of the dagger poised above his head. He knew and remembered its threat well.

"I'm sorry," she said, meaning more with these two words than she could dare to voice. She had lost sight of her place once again, forgetting that Loki's warm, welcoming body and soft bed didn't change the circumstances surrounding his rift with Asgard. The compliments paid with his lips and fingers didn't excuse his heartless words and thoughtless actions.

He smiled softly, finally meeting her stare. "You've changed recently," he said. She straightened her posture, her brow wrinkling with concern and sudden self-consciousness. "You have lately challenged me over decisions you never would have second-guessed before. What is this mysterious force that encourages you to argue with me so freely?"

"I…" she started, uncertain how to answer and wondering if his statement somehow held more truth than she wanted to believe. "I meant no disrespect."

He laughed softly and placed a gentle hand chastely on her shoulder. "I like it," he said. "If it were anyone else, I might be troubled, but you - you've forced me to defend my place, to think twice about my choices. We may disagree, and perhaps I will lose my patience at times, but I am grateful for the exercise and the friendship that accompanies it. Perhaps I will be a better leader for it."

She felt her heart swell with Thor's kind words on the precipice of a difficult time, but concurrently, she felt a great weight upon her shoulders. Though a part of her wished she could continue her lovely charade for a moment longer, she felt it slipping from her grasp with every syllable from Thor's mouth. How could she give counsel to Thor in good conscience while she bedded his rival? How would she possibly earn back his trust if he ever learned the truth? "Thank you, Thor," she said simply, unable to find words appropriate enough to match his.

He smiled brightly, but the sad look that had appeared in his eyes earlier reappeared with a greater strength. A question was seeded in her mind. For the first time during this unfortunate exchange, she wondered if there wasn't another source behind his grief. She nearly asked about Jane, but as the question neared her lips, she dismissed it. It was not her place to know.

"Out of curiosity," he added before leaving, "Have you been able to learn the identity of the woman he's been seeing? For her own benefit, she should be informed…"

"No," she said, ignoring the stone that appeared in her stomach as she lied, "but I don't believe it will be a permanent problem."

He said nothing, but nodded in reply, trusting her judgment. As he left, Fandral approached Sif, having maintained his distance out of respect for both of them and the privacy of their conversation. "Sif, I think it may be wise to find her, regardless of the status of their relationship."

Sif's expression fell into a deep frown as she considered how to reply to him without protesting too much. "Fandral…" she started, shaking her head.

"I don't trust him," he said in interruption, "so what reason would I have for trusting _her_? She must be conspiring with him."

"You don't know her," Sif said firmly, taking a deep breath to calm herself.

Fandral scoffed. "I don't have to. Assuming she isn't being compensated, she is either his ally or a victim of his manipulation. Either way, we should know; maybe we could use her against him, or protect her from any further…"

She attempted to cool her now enflamed anger, but her fists remained clenched tightly at her sides. "I was charged with this duty. She is _my _responsibility. If I say it is no longer a concern, then respect my word."

"If she knows something…" he began to argue.

"Fandral…" her voice while saying his name was suddenly as cold and hard as steel. He nearly recoiled in surprise. Her brow relaxed as she recognized her tone, and though her next words carried the same weight, her eyes pleaded with him in a way he had never seen on her features before. "Forget this. Relinquish whatever obsession is driving your curiosity."

"I didn't mean to intrude on your position…" he said.

"I know," she said, her voice lost its edge. She took his hand in a friendly manner and granted him a soft facsimile of a smile. "Just promise me you'll let this from your mind."

He nodded, but the perplexed look in his eyes regarding her reaction did not fade. He looked down at her hand, still holding his sword-calloused palm securely. A subtle smile appeared on his mouth, concealed slightly by his facial hair; it was so much different than the over-confident grin he normally wore. "You _have_ changed," he said. "A few months ago, you would have been the first one wanting to expose every one of his secrets for what they were - so why advocate for him now?"

Sif pulled away from his hand as her eyes dropped to the floor. Although she couldn't have answered him, she felt no ill towards Thor for his inquiry. He was too much a part of her past, and her superior. Fandral had no such right and had succeeded only in crossing beyond a boundary she'd assumed was still firmly in place. Her cheeks burned red as she awkwardly sought a way to explain why his persistence regarding Loki's consort was bothersome, but as her silence stretched, he seemed to infer her meaning for himself.

"What is so different with you, Sif?"

"It isn't any of your business," she said sharply, inadvertently echoing Loki's earlier words. "Leave this alone."

Her tone had been harder than she had intended, but the message had served its purpose. His smile fell and he opened his mouth in silent defense. Unable to find his words, he stepped around her and left the hall, leaving the tension between them intact.

Numbness claimed her fingers as her head began to cool. She shut her eyes and tried to clear her thoughts, but everything had become convoluted, and as she looked back towards Loki, who was still sitting quietly in his chair, she realized it may only get worse. Through her selfishness and vanity, she had put herself at odds with both Thor and one of her closest friends, she had jeopardized her standing with an honored subordinate, and had spent the entirety of her mission on Jotunheim foolishly distracted and unfocused. The one relationship in her life that seemed to be going smoothly was doomed to fail very soon, and if it was revealed, it would certainly push her even further from her loved ones. Every step she took seemed to create a new challenge as it moved her closer to him, but the very blood he sent boiling within her veins when they were together clouded her judgment.

She _had_ changed, she realized, though not for any better. Every decision she'd recently made was wrong, and yet she lacked the conviction to alter her path.

After a moment alone with this dreadful rumination, she went back into the conference room and began undoing Loki's chains so she could escort him back home with the Einherjar. She thought to ask him if she would be safe taking him alone, or if he would take advantage of the situation. As she watched him, however, she felt the question was redundant. He had no snide remark, no clever quip, and his usual, mischievous expression had fallen. There was only darkness in his eyes, and the reflection of a sort of confusion he had rarely shown anyone.

The small party moved silently back to his chambers, Sif's dismissal of their guards being the sole words uttered during their return. She began stripping off his mask and chains; only then did he meet her eyes and acknowledge her. She rested her hand on his cheek, surprised when he pulled back with a look of distaste as though the idea of a moment of sincerity shamed him. She knew he would be displeased, but she couldn't abate the pity that filled her heart. At the same time, however, an intense anger began to crest like a wave towards inside of her towards his recent decisions.

She was angry with him for perpetuating his own miserable circumstances, for rebelling against her king, for creating such dissonance in her that she had sunk into her own fugue. For the most of it, she was angry because the shadow of a dreadful thought had entered her mind that she was beginning to _feel _something for him - something she very much wanted to deny because she knew without a doubt that he would never return it. His goals would only ever entice him to withdraw away from her and those who still cared for him, and even if his recent interests allowed him room for something better, she wasn't sure he would know what to do with her outside of the bedroom. In fact, she wondered if the idea of love was even possible for him, or if the Jotun's definition, which sounded closer to possessive obsession in her own mind, was the closest he would ever come.

He _knew _it didn't have to be this way. He could've simply acknowledged his place as Odin's left hand and second in line. They could've had something normal and _legitimate_ if he'd only accepted Thor's reign… Even as the thought flittered through her mind, she realized how completely false it was.

_If I were any other man, you would not have had me._

The words he'd spoken on their first night together echoed through her memory, seeming never more true than they were at that moment. Their passion was born out of their common anger and jealousy, and had been driven by deception ever since. What good could she ever hope to bear from such evil beginnings? She had only run to him as a way of scorning Thor for his love of a mortal; he only welcomed her due to a desire to possess what had been Thor's and a lingering obsession from his youth. The only benefit her confusing emotions served was to maintain a tentative hold on something that was destined to fail.

The liaison on Jotunheim was right - they really did have more in common than she wanted to admit.

"Will you stay?" he asked in a voice so raw and low that it reached right through her chest and shot a new wave of empathetic pain to her heart.

She struggled to find the answer among the matrix of disparate thoughts that plagued her. "I - I don't…"

"I thought as much," he quickly interjected in a sharp tone.

She narrowed her eyes, catching the obvious bitterness in his voice. "What is that supposed to mean?"

He stood and turned his back to her, scoffing harshly. "You love power; it is the only quality that matters to you - and as we've both just learned, that is something I currently lack."

"Power is attractive to me, but I've never…"

"_Please_," he interrupted, sarcasm dripping from his words as he turned to grant her a scornful look. "You've only entertained the best, shunning the rest if they didn't meet the great standards you formed so long ago. I'd swear it was Mjolnir you were having an affair with in your youth, not Thor. You saw stars the first time he held it - and have measured every man since by its canon." She sighed impatiently and crossed her arms, but she gave no argument. "Admit it, the only reason you _ever_ came to me was because I finally posed a real threat to the House of Odin - and it excited your wounded heart."

"Does having a preference make me a villain?" she asked quietly, refusing to allow her voice to match his.

The honesty implied by her question surprised him. "No," he answered softly at first, "but I have played my hand and revealed my bluff. It is of no surprise to me that you would forsake my bed _now_."

The end of his statement conveyed such venom with it that she fought against a reaction of fear. However, she would not leave him yet. She had grown to know him in this short time and was able to see the grief hidden beneath the veil of his angry words. "Perhaps your shadow is less threatening than it was yesterday, but you have lost nothing. Odin will forever hold you as his son. Thor's threat was in vain."

"Part of me wishes I could share in your sweet denial, but the truth is that Odin would gladly relinquish me to Jotunheim, if it simply meant I was less burdensome to him. He banished his pride and joy - what chance do _I_ have?" He hid his face from her, unwilling to let her see the vulnerability that may have crossed it as he continued. "He has only ever seen me as one of them. That is why he never granted me an ounce of his favor - and why he found it so easy to refer to me by my true sire's name. No matter what illusion hides the color of my skin, the son of Laufey is the sum of my identity. I have little doubt he is grateful for the excuses I've given him to disown me entirely."

Loki lifted his thin hand in front of him as though his warm tone would suddenly disappear at will. He could still clearly remember the wave of ice that had moved down his spine the moment he realized the truth of his heritage. Odin's poor excuse and confession still felt like a fresh wound. Though it had scabbed over a few times, it had only festered underneath, and it was unlikely it would ever heal.

"You hate yourself - because you're part of them," she observed. He didn't respond, and in his silence, he at least partially confirmed her theory. "We were all raised to believe they were terrible beasts, less intelligent, war-mongering murderers. Learning you…"

"They _are_…"

"Laufey was a horrible king," she interrupted. "Many of them were swayed by his desire for vengeance and power, but there are exceptions, even despite his long rule over their people. There are some there who know beauty and loyalty, and who would show kindness to an enemy. It isn't the nature of your father that condemns you to be what you are today. Don't hate them for your own choices."

"Are you so enamored with them now?" he asked bitterly. "I may carry Laufey's blood in my veins, but do not count my qualities in them or theirs in me. I am _not_ one of them."

She shook her head. In Asgardian terms, blood and family was everything. She couldn't even comprehend this lack of identity that he was suddenly experiencing after so many years of knowing, for certain, that he was the son of Odin Allfather; it wasn't in her way of thought. "But if you feel you are no longer Odin's son - and you refuse to claim yourself as Laufey's - then what are you?"

He turned back towards her, his cold, green stare locking with hers in an intense stalemate. He had intended on showing his true colors, his apathy and strength. Instead, she saw through those disguises, recognizing only foolish stubbornness and pain. "I am alone," he said, so low his voice cracked as it hit its deepest register.

His words struck her so hard, she visibly flinched and stepped back from him. The distinct feeling of shame and humiliation filled her gut as contrasting thoughts pulled at the corners of her mind. Loki would never feel anything towards her other than what was afforded by his male anatomy; she _knew_ this from the beginning. Yet despite this greater wisdom, she could not shake the sensation of having had a blade of ice run through her middle. Once again, anger welled within her, burning her cheeks red with heat. She had been so utterly stupid to allow herself to become addicted to his touch to the extent it affected her thoughts toward him. She had been a fool-hearted child by clinging and grasping to the way he stroked her vanity and allowing it to skew her perspective. She never should have laid with him, but the far greater sin was to grow fond of him.

"If you are so contended to be alone," she said, attempting her hardest to appear no greater than mildly bothered, "then you can remain that way. I shall not burden you with my company any longer."

She turned to walk away, but he grabbed her arm and pulled her back. His fingers dig into her flesh so hard she nearly cried out and tried to pry his grip loose. His eyes searched hers intently, confusion washed over his expression that shifted towards something else - something unidentifiable on his features. "Why does that offend you?"

"Let me go," she ordered, ignoring his question. His grip only tightened.

She gasped in pain, convincing him to release her, but as he let go of her arm, his hands found her waist. She didn't resist him as he stepped closer; she was too busy fighting herself over feeling this type and amount of pain towards someone who had never given a _damn_ about her.

He had not missed a moment of her reaction and he was excellent at reading non-verbal cues. Her expression and body language told him a plethora of things her lips refused to reveal, and though this baffled him at first, he began to understand. His brow softened as the corners of his mouth twitched upward, but his words failed him. He knew only one sure way of communicating with her, one method of conveying a rare moment of honesty in a manner which did not involve the same risk of sentimental foolishness as talking would.

His eyes fell to her lips as the rest of him followed. She leaned up slightly to meet him, but just as he could barely begin to feel the softness of her mouth on his own, she pulled back slightly, still only inches away from him. "You've made your point perfectly clear," she said.

"I don't believe I have," he argued. He placed his hand behind her head and lifted it back towards him. With a gentleness unlike what he'd ever shown before, he brushed her lips with his. "Stay," he said softly, kissing her again. He moved down to her neck, pausing to inhale as the smell of flowers and sword polish filled his senses before tasting her tender flesh.

"No," she answered firmly, though her actions gave a different answer.

She leaned her head back in encouragement, feeling her resolve slip away. His voice conveyed his need of her, his lips acting as the witness to this truth. As his hands worked against the straps of her armor, she realized this was his way of seeking comfort. There was little she could say or do at this point that wouldn't oppose Thor and break her oaths, but the heat of her body and the touch of her lips could temporarily treat his pain.

He tossed her metal chest piece to the side of the room and began pulling at the laces to her bodice. "Stay," he repeated.

As his rich voice vibrated through her chest, she found herself succumbing to his will. The end of this sweet dream was near, but for the time being, they would submit to each other's mercy.


End file.
